


The Call of Ancient Blood

by Mohammedbey



Category: BattleTech: MechWarrior, Cthulhu Mythos - Fandom, Space - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23242060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mohammedbey/pseuds/Mohammedbey
Summary: Vincent Dumare was just your average mercenary mechwarrior...or was he? He and his lance of Battlemechs were hired to defend a group of settlers on a world where the previous settlers mysteriously disappeared, many years earlier.





	1. Chapter 1

Luthien, Draconis Combine  
November 12, 2931  
1700 Hours

Vincent Dumare adjusted his harness and took a long drag from his electronic pipe and exhaled thick clouds of vapor into his Black Knight’s cockpit. His mercenary unit awaited their orders, while their dropships circled the planet in low orbit.  
He tapped is comm, “Colonel, any update?”  
“Nah,” came the gravel-voiced reply, “still negotiating.”  
“Got it,” growled Dumare. He flicked the comm off and brought up the map of the palace his unit was supposed to storm, should the negotiations fail. The briefing claimed that their mission was a “hostage rescue” but he knew that nobody was being rescued; The mission would kill Coordinator Hugai Kurita and replace him with his sister, Acolyte Neccess Kurita…or a suitable substitute.  
He chuckled over the thought of pulling the same stunt with the other Houses. It would be easy, considering how stupid these inbred nobles were. They learned nothing from the loonbar Cameron line.  
He poured over the maps and floor diagrams, studied the briefing materials and made notations on his overlays for the upcoming combat drop.

2100 Hours

Demare lay in his bunk, depressed and disappointed at the cancellation of his mission. In a rare display of intelligence, a House lord was threatened with military action and backed down. Neccess Kurita was escorted from Luthien by ComStar and all units were recalled to Terra.  
Unable to sleep, he fished his autodoc kit from his cooling suit and dosed himself with Crash, a painkiller and sedative. Before he drifted off to sleep, he placed an order to refill his medical supplies. His eyes closed, and he felt his body grow lighter. He was in his cockpit, executing a combat drop over Luthien. The palace below was already burning in several locations and he could see tracers and missile trails rising from defenders on the ground.  
Pulse lasers blasted at the scattered guards. He wondered if they even thought of the futility of their efforts. His HUD indicated that a lance had entered the throne room, so he headed to the east wing, where Neccess Kurita was kept, under guard.  
The Black Knight sauntered between the buildings, unchallenged. The second floor windows were shoulder height and he scanned the far end of the building before he tore the metal bars from a window and keyed his comm, “Demare at the east wing, going in.”  
There were no guards and the mercenary easily unlocked the doors to the suite at the end of a long corridor. Pistol ready, he stepped into the suite and closed the doors behind him. His eyes swept the spacious living room, which was sumptuously decorated with teak and rosewood, with silk paintings and hanging lamps. A young woman in the robes of a ComStar Acolyte knelt in prayer next to a low table. She looked up and bowed her head.  
He walked over to the woman, “Coordinator Neccess Kurita, I am here to collect my reward.” He grabbed her roughly by the wrist and pulled her to her feet.  
“No!” He loved it when they protested. She didn’t have much strength so dragging he to her boudoir was easy. Her small frame allowed him to toss her upon the bed without effort.  
“Either I get paid,” he warned, “or I report that you were killed by your guards.” He licked his lips as her robe fell away.

Havana, Cuba  
Terra  
February 15, 2932  
0300 Hours

Dumare loved Havana. He enjoyed the weather, the beaches, the cheap hotel room, the cheap alcohol, and the cheap women who knew enough to leave before he woke up. The only thing he didn’t enjoy were the dreams he had; As usual, he'd be in the cockpit of his battlemech, but his Black Knight would be standing on a remote, snow-covered beach. The sky would be overcast, and the clouds glowed blue in the twilight. He would push his ‘mech forward into the gray waves and feel exhilaration as the freezing water washed over his cockpit, as he ventured into the bleak depths, which somehow called to him.  
His Black Knight trudged through the silt, kicking up ashen clouds that were carried away by the strong undercurrent. The mild incline was barren, with few fish or ragged strands of kelp. Eventually, he would find dark, undersea valleys that required illumination from his spotlights to navigate. The Black Knight’s inner structure creaked as his depth meter read three hundred meters. In the murky depths ahead, he could see a glimmer of light that he assumed would be creatures possessing some manner of bioluminescence. As he passed 400 meters, the rocky path grew less rough and flattened, as if it were a paved path. Portions of the valley walls appeared nearly vertical and some even resembled bricks, by some illusion of the light.  
The coral growth at around the depth of 500 meters strangely resembled fluted columns and some radiated a blue glow that illuminated his way toward a darkened mass that seemed to draw him forward. As he drew closer, the mass assumed a blocky shape and almost looked like some manner of building. He suddenly became apprehensive, and he believed that shadows moved, just out of his range of sight. The dark, blocky mass became more defined and if he had to guess, he would say it appeared to be an imitation of the Parthenon. When the Black Knight stood at the foot of the marble stairs, he could discern movement in the shadows between the dimly lit columns, and from the blackened center, a dim blue light cut through the darkness. Inside his head, he heard a voice, an unnatural growl that insinuated itself over his thoughts, and it whispered, “Cthulhu.”

1100 Hours

“Thank you for meeting with me,” said the middle-aged gentleman. He wore a fancy suit and Dumare gave him a firm handshake.  
The hotel’s restaurant was nearly empty, which was odd, considering the number of people who flock to Havana when the continent endured its winter. Vincent sniffed, “Okay, Colonel Dietrikson woke me up to meet you,” he replied, “who are you and what do you want?”  
“Here,” the stranger handed Dumare a business card, “You have been selected for a mission.”  
The mercenary looked at the card and raised an eyebrow, “You’re ComStar Primus York?”

1800 Hours

“Your records show that you were born somewhere in the Periphery,” said Adept Maxim Thalassa, “where would that be?”  
“I have no idea,” answered Demare, “my mother left the Periphery when I was five years old, and never bothered to tell me.”  
“That isn’t important, at this time,” announced the acolyte, “So your battlemech was your mother’s?”  
“No, it was my father’s,” replied the mercenary, “He died, and it passed to my mother…and to me after she died.”  
“My condolences,” offered Thalassa, “Let’s get down to business.” He opened a briefcase and pulled out a chart of settled space. “As you know, man has settled a vast number of planets of various quality.”  
“Yes,” acknowledged Dumare.  
“The fall of the Star League, as well as the subsequent wars have tragically, pushed hundreds of marginally inhabitable worlds to the point where they are no longer viable for adequate human habitation.” The acolyte leaned close and whispered, “ComStar has a list of these worlds that may still have human settlers.”  
Dumare nodded, “Those would be invaluable,” he whispered in return, “What’s my role?”  
Adept Thalassa smiled, “Due to the collapse of the rule of law, many of these worlds have become havens for pirates, or, at least, easy targets; We require a number of experienced guards.”  
“Why the secrecy?” Vincent asked, “You could have just asked the unit for grunts.”  
“We don’t trust all of the mercenaries in our hire,” said Thalassa, “especially those with ties to any of the Houses.”  
“I see,” agreed Dumare, “none of the Houses can be trusted, and misplaced patriotism might taint a mercenary’s professional ethics.”  
“I’m glad you understand,” the acolyte appeared to relax, “ComStar’s long-term plans include a kind of corps of exploration, that will extend our influence out to the Periphery, but for now, we cannot afford to have the Houses fighting over systems we have brought back from the brink.”  
“I fully understand.”  
Thalassa returned his charts to the briefcase and locked it. He still had a folder before him, “No family?”  
“None.”  
“Your records indicate you were married and divorced,” the acolyte observed, “no children?”  
“None.”  
“What was the problem?”  
Dumare was beginning to get annoyed, “Like most women, she didn’t know her place,” he slapped the table, “What’s the point of these questions?”  
Thalassa put up his hands, “I beg your pardon, the mission is partially colonization and may be very remote,” he replied, “and you have a reputation for requiring female company.”  
“Yeah? What about it?”  
“Raping a few women can be ignored during a war,” the Adept explained, “ComStar is ready to assign a woman to be your companion during this mission.”  
“Is that so?” He had heard that wealthier mercenary units even fielded their own brothels that serviced a variety of tastes. “Agreed, but I get to choose the woman.”  
The acolyte had anticipated Dumare’s condition and handed him a file with images and dossiers. “You’ll get to meet your selection before you depart.”

Al-tinnin IV  
Ex-Terran Hegemony (Now Draconis Combine)  
June 20, 2932  
0830 Hours

Adept Thalassa sat at his console and glumly listened to the preliminary reports of the initial scans of the planet they orbited.  
“There are no traces of any of the expected major power generators on the surface and the urban center that once supported over five hundred thousand inhabitants appears to be abandoned,” reported Acolyte van der Meer.  
“Due to over half the orbital Storm Generators being offline, the planet’s average temperature is currently about ten degrees Celcius, with minor glaciation on the one major continent,” announced Acolyte Savra, she added, “Planetary conditions are harsh, but still habitable.”  
“I’m figuring piracy and massive looting,” assessed Vincent Dumare, “Plenty of meat for the slave markets, too.”  
“I want a team from the Hermes to work on those Storm Generators,” ordered Thalassa, “and prepare the Hugin to land at the coordinates of Port Innsmouth.”  
“Have my lance members ready for immediate deployment,” said the mercenary.

1300 Hours

“All I’m getting is massive amounts of wreckage,” reported Captain Dumare, “No heat sources, no evidence of recent inhabitation.” He looked over the bleak landscape of ruined buildings, covered with layers of snow. The skies were slate gray, cold and foreboding; Snow fell in damp clumps.  
“I want our camp set up in the town’s center,” commanded Adept Thalassa, to the engineering vehicles, as they trundled down the dropship’s ramp.  
The mission’s two dropships contained just over a hundred settlers, most were couples, made up of technicians and survey crews. The primary mission was to evaluate the feasibility of restoring the terraforming satellites to operation and salvaging the wealth of resource mining operations the planet was recorded to possess. Despite the near universal use of fusion power, fossil fuels have still proven the be the most reliable, economical and efficient energy source known to humanity and there was always a market for it.

1500 Hours

The lance was made up of Dumare’s Black Knight, a Hermes piloted by Sergeant Colleen MacCuan, a Crab piloted by Sergeant Kalani Nu’ukai and a Phoenix Hawk piloted by Lieutenant Ravi Samudra.  
Samudra’s Phoenix Hawk acted as point and strode through the debris-strewn streets at a casual pace, languidly sweeping to the left and right with its scanners.  
“Nothing in the town center to worry about,” reported Samudra, “it just needs a bulldozer to clear the rubble.”  
“There be nae evidence of battle,” mused MacCuan, in her thick brogue, “some fire damage, but nary a bullet nor shell hole to speak of.”  
“I’d guess that the town was ripped apart by looters,” Dumare pondered aloud, “but no trace of inhabitants, not even bodies.”  
“Yeah,” agreed Nu’ukai, “Pirates rarely clean up after themselves, so there were enough survivors to clear the bodies, but that doesn’t mean there are any of their descendants still around.”  
“We have under three hours of daylight,” announced the captain, “Take this route to the northwest, the mining site is about fifteen kilometers outside of town.”  
The lance followed a highway of broken pavement, where plants and trees managed to break through the layer of asphalt. The wet snow gave way to large, blowing flakes that tumbled from the drab skies and were hurled by the winds. The highway was flanked by dense forests of evergreen trees, although the gray skeletons of deciduous trees remained, as there was no Spring for them to recover from the Winters that came to stay.  
“Look!” The Phoenix Hawk halted, its left arm leveled, its hand gestured to the side of the highway. A brown-furred rabbit nibbled at the leaves of a small bush at the edge of the forest. Samudra sent a page from the fauna report that indicated small bears, deer and squirrels should also be present, as would the creatures common to human habitation: Dogs, cats and rats. There were several dozen animals and birds that the early settlers released into the environment.  
“Eh, they also released king crabs, tuna and lobster!” noted Nu’ukai, “Ravi, we go fishing later!” He sent the images of lobster and crab traps to his lancemates.  
“Nae birds yet,” commented MacCuan, “we passed the ruins of at least three farms, yet nae a single, wee chicken.”  
“I’d rather have lobster,” inserted Nu’ukai, with a chuckle. “But you right, no pigs, either.”  
“They’d all be feral now,” commented Dumare, “Nobody around to feed them.”  
“The mining site’s up this hill,” indicated Samudra, “The buildings appear to be in better shape than those in town.” Most of the walls still stood, even though much of the roofs had collapsed long ago. There were even the weathered wrecks of vehicles, crumbling with over a century’s worth of rust.  
“Coal,” announced Dumare, “It appears that this place hasn’t been looted, the generator is still here.” He was glad that his mech’s Beagle Active Probe still operated. “I’ll call it in.”

1830 Hours

The lance made a brief sweep around the mining site and headed back toward the town as the cloudy skies grew darker. The center of town was ablaze from the light towers that allowed the advance party to continue their work into the night.  
Captain Dumare informed his subordinates of their watch schedules and departed for the landing zone, where a warm bunk awaited him. In the hangar, he could see Sergeant Nu’ukai describing the construction of a lobster trap to a nodding acolyte. He wouldn’t mind some seafood to break the monotony of the usual rations, even high-quality, preserved food served by ComStar. He made a note to sign out a rifle and ammunition from the armory, just in case he ran across a deer or feral pig.

2200 Hours

Dumare slapped the annoying comm unit that stirred him from his sleep. “Ugh, we had better be under attack.”  
“Many apologies, captain,” said MacCuan, in her lilting voice, “you just may want to see this.”  
“No, no, no, no, no,” he scolded, “Just tell me what it is.” He really wasn’t in the mood.  
“Very good, sir,” she began, “I started my watch about an hour ago and I was casually scanning the panorama. When I faced the hill above the mining site, I could distinctly make out a moving light among the trees.”  
The mercenary closed his eyes for a moment, “Holy crap…” He thought for a moment and said, “Excellent work, keep an eye on the location and try to get a fix on it,” he continued, “We’ll check it out in the morning.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ComStar team of settlers set up camp in the ruins of an abandoned town, Dumare and his lance of Battlemechs investigate evidence of human inhabitants in the distance.

August, 2900

The Black Knight headed North through the town at a run. The waiting dropship was about 15 minutes away, so the pilot avoided contact with the raiders. Panicked civilians ran inland, away from the approaching raiders who chose to wade out of the sea, but without firing any weapons. The sky was overcast, as usual, with light rainfall, obscuring long-ranged visibility. The raiders’ battlemechs weren’t in a hurry, there was a brief battle when the Stinger ventured to oppose them, but his frantic transmissions were confused, almost hysterical. He was unable to identify the machines at all and shouted something about his weapons being ineffective before contact was lost.  
From the crest of a hill, the Black Knight could see the town was no longer powered, with flames and columns of smoke marking the advance of the unknown enemy. Through the haze and dying light, the pilot could make out towering shapes that lumbered through the abandoned streets, but not enough to identify what they were. On the opposite side of town, dozens of the residents fled uphill, towards the coal mine, but through the obscured distance looked like so many rats fleeing predators.  
The dropship stood in the distance, its landing zone in a remote valley, its location known to few.  
“Lucienne, you are ordered to return,” crackled the angry voice over the comm, “You are to bring back my son and return my battlemech.”  
“I’m leaving, Charles,” replied the Black Knight’s pilot, “Those raiders are your friends, and I want nothing to do with them.” She killed the comm and headed straight for the dropship’s welcoming ramp.

June 20, 2932  
0830 Hours

There was a dirt trail that led from the coal mining site to the hills above and behind the mine. Dumare led his lance up the gradual incline until they found the hill too steep for battlemechs to safely traverse.  
“Nothing on the sensors,” remarked the captain, “we continue on foot.” Dumare unfastened his harness and opened his cockpit, an act that he immediately regretted, as his olfactory senses were immediately assailed by a hideous fetid stench that it took all of his willpower to resist uncontrolled retching. He closed his cockpit and activated the biological/chemical warfare environmental evacuation and cleansing system. “Stay in your mechs!” he warned his lance mates, “the air is unbreathable.” He opened his toxic ops kit and after a moment of thought, decided to don the entirety of his hostile environment gear and breathing apparatus. “I’m going full toxic enviro- Full suit.”  
“Gah, something is very dead out there!” replied Nu’ukai, coughing, “I thought I was goin’ puke.”  
“I threw up,” reported MacCuan, her voice weak, “do you mind if I rest for a wee bit? I’m sorry…”  
“You can keep watch, Coleen,” replied Dumare, “I got more than a whiff of that ghastly reek, so I understand.”  
“Thank you, sir.”  
“Lock and load, people,” announced Dumare, “that stench didn’t cause itself.” He drew the automatic rifle from his bugout kit and checked his air supply. He’d be using filters for as long as possible, but he could go self-contained mode for half an hour, if need be.  
The side of the hill was not so sheer as to prevent human negotiation and the trio followed what appeared to be an animal trail that circled the mount. Dumare could see Innsmouth in the distance, through the haze. The ComStar camp stood out in the town’s center, the temporary structures formed an edifice of dark blocks that dominated the surrounding ruins. The two bulldozers industriously toiled at clearing the streets that radiated from the camp of rubble and debris to facilitate access to various quadrants of the town’s remains for detailed exploration by dedicated research teams. From the heights, the mercenary could see beyond the town’s decayed corpse and through the undulating mist he could barely discern the vague shapes of a harbor and naval vessel, which clearly listed at its moorings.  
“Phoenix Base, Black Knight, reporting.”  
“Black Knight, Phoenix Base, go ahead.”  
“Dumare here, from the hill I can make out port facilities to the South of Innsmouth.”  
“Roger, Black Knight, our records indicate the port and a fish cannery at that location, investigation is pending.”  
“Got it, Black Knight out.”  
The men on foot traveled up toward the wooded peak. Dumare signaled for his fellows to halt.  
“Do you hear that?”  
“It sounds like buzzing,” replies Samudra, “Bees? Hornets?”  
Nu’ukai stiffened, “No braddah, I’ve seen this before after a city battle, the stink of piles of bodies, and flies, millions of damn flies.”  
“It’s just beyond these trees,” warned Dumare, “if you think you might puke at the sight, you can stay here.”  
“Nah,” replied the bulky Hawaiian, “I seen dis stuff before.”

1900 Hours

Dumare sat in his berth in the Hugin as he wrote out his report. He was tired, and the cold beer he sipped was finally helping him to relax.  
“Near the top of the hill the team discovered a powerful odor of decay and located what may have once been a trash pit, filled beyond capacity with generations of garbage, as well as the rotting carcasses of partially eaten animals and humans. About seventy meters from that overflowing pit was the entrance of a system of caverns, occupied by some of the remaining descendants of the survivors of Innsmouth. It was then I called for support, to help gather the survivors, transport them to the camp and question them.”  
“The people who we found dwelling in the caverns were in horrible condition: Scabrous, infested with parasites, some were ill and all of them malnourished, due to surviving for generations on the sparse hunting and forage. They were terrified at our presence, but simply cowered meekly as we explored the network of crudely bored caves these people, once civilized, had retreated.”  
“Sixty seven people, mostly women and children, wearing little more than rags and uncured hides, were holed up under those frightful conditions, their only light from two cook fires and a scattering of crude lanterns, which burned oily fat. I asked the older women about the men and they informed me, in a halting, broken version of Standard, that the few men fled soon after the Hugin touched down, as the settlers had been raided by pirates in the past, which confirms the theory that Innsmouth may have been inhabited as late as fifty years ago by a band of pirates, who were descendants of deserters from the Star League military.”  
“Adept Thalassa ordered a fenced compound erected to house the settlers, and the remains of an old warehouse was selected. Many of the older people were opposed to going to Innsmouth, while others seemed terrified of the prospect. Some even refused to abandon the safety of the caverns but only one shout was needed to reduce any of them into silent compliance. It didn’t take long to dawn on me that in this primitive, closed society, the strong ruled and since their men had run away, they had no leaders.”  
“After the people were cleared from the caverns, the old cookpots fashioned from steel drum halves were emptied and among their contents were bones from various animals and from humans, mostly very young children. The older women informed me that during the many lean times, the handful of men would select the oldest boys to be killed and butchered to feed the rest. I worried about what manner of threat the men could pose but the women assured me that the last of the firearms had been rendered useless due to the lack of munitions decades ago, while hunting, and the men were primarily armed with crude spears fashioned of metal scraps, sharpened with stones, attached to wooden hafts, and other similar primitive arms. I was informed of rumors of arms safes, in the abandoned private homes, that could not be opened and lay rusting, their contents untouched.”  
“While we were evacuating the settlers, they cringed in horror at the sight of our battlemechs, likely due to the stories of pirates, passed down through the years. They found the Black Knight especially terrifying, until I demonstrated that the machine was under my control, and of no danger to them. Telling them that we were from Terra also had a profound calming effect upon them, and they soon became much more trusting and obedient.”

A soft chime alerted the mercenary of somebody at the cabin door. He got up and stepped over to the portal, “Dumare, what’s up?” He saw Nu’ukai’s grinning face on the tiny screen.  
“Hey, braddah,” asked the large mechwarrior, “you get plans fo’ dinner?”  
Dumare opened the door and saw the large, wheeled container the sergeant was pulling. No’ukai unlocked the lid and the captain saw the contents packed in crushed ice.  
“Holy…” he was amazed, the chest was filled with fish, shellfish and lobsters the size of dachshunds. The very thought made his mouth water. “Shoots, what time?”  
“Ravi stay starting the barbecue,” replied the Hawaiian, “We went put the traps out yesterday and they was full when we come back,” he rubbed his large chin, “The crab traps not big enough, though, plenny crabs but not the beeg ones…tomorrow we fix ‘em. We start luau, one hour.”  
“We’ll be there!”

2030 Hours

Despite the ambient cold weather outside, the dining tent was warm and comfortable. Everybody who was not on duty happily joined the impromptu feast assembled by the two mechwarrior sergeants.  
Nu’ukai and Samudra stood at the grill, which was laden with clams and fish filets. A set of bamboo steamers filled with lobsters and crabs were stacked upon pots of boiling water. Next to the cooking station was a long serving table, heaped with food of various types.  
“Captain Dumare!” called the Hawaiian, “grab a plate and help yourself!”  
The mercenary waved at the sergeant, “This is fantastic!” He remembered how hungry he was, grabbed a tin tray and headed to the serving line, “Round one!” Gorging himself on fresh food was a rare treat.  
Samudra transferred cooked food to the trays on the serving table, “Eh, kanaka, we need more clams!” He replaced the tray of steamed rice with a full one and dumped the remnants of the old tray on top of it, “We should have plenty rice left over for fried rice tomorrow.”  
The Polynesian tossed several large clams onto the grill, “We got `em!”  
Sitting beside Dumare was a smiling young woman, a ComStar medical technician, who was assigned to pose as the mercenary’s wife. The captain chose her out of a dozen women selected by her employers, primarily due to her physical attributes and secondly, her agreement to satisfy his physical needs, which were prodigious.  
“Dimitra, will you be having any more?” asked Dumare, “MacCuan is on duty, so I’d like to take her a dinner plate, while everything is still hot.”  
“As much as I’d love to, I can’t possibly eat another bite,” she replied. The feast included a large selection of local seafood of amazing size. The lobsters were huge, but not due to advanced age, which would tend to make them tough. Their meat was succulent and sweet to the taste. Samudra had found enormous clams living in the mud flats to the North of the town, as well as beds of oysters, just off shore. To the South, Nu’ukai crossed the rusted trestle bridge which spanned the broad river. He found a variety of salmon making their way up stream so placed a couple of fish traps between the rocks and they yielded a bountiful catch.  
The captain heaped a tin tray with a selection of food and carried it to the Hermes, that stood watching other the brightly lit camp. Aware of the presence of armed, potentially hostile settlers, several volunteers walked about the perimeter in pairs, autorifles slung or carried at the ready. His mind was filled with questions, such as, why didn’t the settlers take advantage of the easily harvested seafood? It was evident that they salvaged scraps of debris to cobble together their crude weapons and tools but why not wire traps? Did they just lack the related skills? Were they so terrified of being discovered by pirates that they refused to venture anywhere near the town? Were they just clueless about fishing? So many mysteries…  
“MacCuan, this is Dumare, I brought you a tray from the luau.”  
“There isn’t any raw fish among it, right?”  
“No, it’s all cooked and delicious!” Dumare emphasized the “delicious” part.  
“I’ll be right down, captain.”

“Welcome back,” Dimitra waved to Dumare with a spoon.  
“What are you eating now?” the mercenary sat next to her.  
She scooped the contents of a small bowl and closed her eyes as she savored the taste, “One of the techs made custard...and I have room for custard.”  
The captain rose to his feet, “I’ll have some too, do you want another one?”  
“Oh, please!” she smiled sweetly.  
Dumare returned a few moments later and Dimitra eagerly snatched the bowl from his hand.  
“Thanks, dear!”  
“This isn’t bad,” Vincent commented, “not bad at all.”  
“How did Colleen like her meal?” she asked, using her spoon to clean every trace of custard from her bowl.  
“’Ecstatic’ would be a suitable term,” he replied, “although, she turned down my offer for a threesome after she finished her shift.”  
“You’re lucky I’m not the jealous type,” said Dimitra, licking her spoon clean and setting it on the table, “but I really don’t need all the women in camp knowing what a pig you really are.”  
“That’s why we aren’t in a tent in camp,” he responded, “we’d keep everybody else awake.”  
“Well, it’s late,” announced the woman, “We may as well head back to our sound-proof cabin on the dropship.” She rose to her feet and stretched.  
“We may opt for a tent,” he suggested, “if only to have more room to relax and rest without the constant noise of a flying factory.”  
Dimitra brightened, “I know, once we get settled in and secure, we should claim one of those farmhouses further inland and fix it up.”  
“Ready for domesticity, are we?” laughed the mercenary, “Looking to raise a brood of kids, eh?” He waved to Nu’ukai and Samudra as he led Dimitra out of the mess tent, “Goodnight, and thanks!”  
“We could do worse,” she said, taking his arm as they headed back to the dropship, “We may be here for years, and this world has plenty of potential.”  
“I guess I’ll have to put more thought into it,” he mused, “well, we do have a good start, I mean, most people just settle on what they could get.”  
“Wait, you picked me from a dozen or so candidates for my bust size,” she pointed out, “I’m sure the interview helped, but there was no way you were getting a test drive.”  
“You are wrong there,” he assured her, “the interview was key, because I had to determine that you weren’t an idiot,” he continued, “your physical aspects were icing on the cake.”  
“Alright,” Dimitra assented, “I won’t knife you in your sleep tonight.”  
They walked quietly for a while and when they reached the edge of the town, Dumare noticed some movement along the nearby sea wall. By the robes, it looked like Acolyte Thalassa, and he was praying or meditating while facing the ocean. As devoted the man may have been to his faith, it was still kind of extreme to brave the frigid wind to display that kind of faith. He slipped his arm around Dimitra’s slim waist, pulled her close and dismissed the thought he had about movement in the water near the praying acolyte as illusions played by shadows in the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The descendants of the settlers are relocated to a temporary camp and the ComStar team tries to find out what happened the the settlement of Innsmouth.

June 30, 2932  
1030 Hours

Dumare stifled a yawn and shifted in his chair. Briefings were a necessary evil that he found tedious and far more exhausting than battle. It didn’t help that the medical technician delivering the briefing read his report in a droning monotone that would have made pornography boring.  
He looked over at Nu’ukai, who also appeared bored, but sat silent, his muscular arms crossed in front of his broad chest.  
The mess tent served as a briefing room. It spanned five meters wide by twenty meters deep and had a ceiling of about four meters at its peak, with walls two meters high. There were six oil-burning heaters spaced evenly in the interior, which provided warm comfort to the people who used the tent and, in a pinch, could be used to heat rations apportioned to the personnel when meals weren’t being served. The ranks of folding tables and chairs easily provided seating for sixty people, with ample room for serving stables with serving trays.  
While the two dropships provided excellent shelter from the elements, they were also very noisy for people unaccustomed to prolonged space travel, so many of the paired colonists opted to occupy the many medium-sized tents that comfortably served four soldiers. The town center provided the space for a small tent city for twenty or so dwellings, including several larger tents that served as offices and workshops for the many technicians. Encircling the tent city was a chain link fence, three meters high and topped with razor wire. There were two gates, one to the North, facing the path to the landing zone and another facing to the West, toward the road leading inland, uphill to the long-abandoned mines and farms.  
MacCuan and Samudra were in their battlemechs, patrolling the Innsmouth perimeter. There were scattered reports of movement outside of the town ruins, such as one or two humans lurking in the tree line, probably the adult males that escaped from the caverns, and their actions were unpredictable. Patrols had found crude traps, mostly snares, obviously aimed at humans but clumsily executed and poorly camouflaged.  
The sixty-seven colonists were now living under careful watch, in two large tents surrounded by fence and razor wire, to the South of the camp. The medical technicians spent many hours cleaning the near feral humans and treating their many ailments, while the anthropologists had a field day, studying first hand people who had regressed to the Stone Age, due to the collapse of society. The three eldest women were in their mid-forties, but the interviews yielded little details. They could recall the town being inhabited, and their being swept away into the wilderness, to hide from raiders. They held the battlemechs in awe and learned to flee the thunder of dropships, which brought raiders and slavers. Their tribe was currently ruled by three men, who shared their rulership, although there was one elder, who had passed away countless years before, but was the last colonist who used a firearm. Their command of Standard was limited to a mid-elementary school level and their vocabulary limited, and only vague memories of literacy. They knew nothing of modern technologies, no idea of metallurgy or medicine, and had no clue of civilization on other worlds.  
Demare pondered the reports related by the colony’s “social workers” as he referred to the anthropologists. The last raid on Innsmouth was probably thirty years prior, when the last of the inhabitants still lived in the town. The reports continued, from one team after another. There were fields of winter wheat, overgrown with weeds and wild brush, unharvested for decades. Feral cattle wandered the inland fields in tiny herds, alongside deer and wild fowl. The technicians who explored the mining site gave a positive report of the abandoned equipment and their ability to restore the mine to operation, although the colony had no use for tons of bituminous coal, at the moment.  
The team that reported the condition of the fish cannery wasn’t so positive. A fishing trawler listed at its moorings, its turbines irreparable. The factory itself was in sore disrepair; the generators could be refurbished but the assembly lines were in a hopeless state; the delicate equipment and computers ravaged by exposure to the elements.  
For the most part, the reports of the colony’s conditions were positive. The lumber mill could be running within a month, the water reservoir will be back in service within a week, the engineers were ready to restore select buildings and infrastructure. The reports from the distant drilling site were just as hopeful. It seemed that this planet would be brought back from the Stone Age in under a year.  
Bored, the mercenary looked about the table and at his fellow colonists. Most of them took notes and listened to the reports intently. He eyed a couple of the women and smiled when their eyes met. Very few of the techs were alpha males, he noted, he even doubted that many of the men had even touched a woman before. Well, the colony needed more betas than alphas, in order to do the menial work. He knew his place as chief was assured, among this group. He’d get all the women he’d ever want, while the underachievers will have to settle for holovid games. He wondered if the social workers had a clue that the previous colonists experienced the natural progression of society -The alpha males took over and the women existed to breed and act as menials. There were no males older than toddlers among the cavern people, the alphas were shortsighted in that respect but Demare suspected that the elder male was likely killed by the younger males, who couldn’t figure out how the elder’s firearm worked. He surmised that paleolithic man was no different, might made right and naturally, men made all the rules and called the shots. “Yeah, that was paradise…”

July 10  
1830 Hours

“I’d like to commend you and your lance for keeping the colony protected,” said Adept Thalassa, “while we have yet to capture the feral men, your efforts and security suggestions have kept them from attacking any of our teams and from interfering with any of our efforts at restoring the various necessary sites.”  
“No problem at all, Adept, replied Dumare, “I pretty much have an idea how the feral men think. They’ve been the ruling class for the past three decades and now their worst nightmare has happened. We took their women, their workers, and destroyed their society and there’s nothing they could do about it.”  
“We have been trying to convince them to surrender,” explained Thalassa, “but they haven’t even shown themselves.”  
“They won’t,” answered Dumare, “The dropships only mean death and slavery to them, and our openly armed patrols and guards remind them of raiders, as well. I wouldn’t trust them if they did surrender. We took everything from them and they would do anything to get it back, including the use of guile and violence, if they could get away with it.”  
“Do you think so?”  
“I know so,” said Dumare, “I’ve dealt with Neanderthal types before, they hate anybody who touches their stuff.”  
“Don’t you believe that you are underestimating them?” asked the Adept.  
Dumare laughed, “These ignorant cavemen resorted to cannibalism, even though there are herd beasts and once domesticated fowl in what was once farmland,” he tapped the report folder on the Adept’s desk, “Most of the vegetables in their diet were barely nutritional wild weeds and leaves, even though they could have gleaned potatoes, onions and turnips that still grew in the abandoned gardens near the farm houses.” He shook his head, “They were surrounded by food sources but had no clue or incentive to hunt or gather all they needed.”  
“How would you explain that, Dumare?”  
“I figure that the real alpha male died or was murdered by the current dominant males, who are probably gammas,” declared the mercenary, “they were alpha wannabes, lazy underachievers, and natural bullies, when there is nobody to challenge them -Kerensky was a gamma.”  
Thalassa started, “That was unexpected, why do you say that? Kerensky won a lot of battles, didn’t he?”  
Dumare rolled his eyes, “A monkey could have won a lot of battles pushing the SLDF around the map,” he leaned forward, “Yet he was driven out of the Periphery with his tail between his legs by inferior forces and had to compensate over his shameful retreat by massing his forces and crushing the virtually defenseless Rim Worlds Republic.”  
“What else about him pointed to gamma status?”  
“Gammas tend to disrupt order,” said Dumare, “Kerensky was a public grandstander who, instead of fixing problems, he would call a press conference, which should have gotten him canned but somebody in the SLDF command must have liked him, or he was being used, which showed after Amaris was defeated.”  
“Go on.”  
“Given the position of ultimate leadership, Kerensky failed to reorganize the Terran Hegemony,” Dumare began, “yet the real alpha males of the Houses relegated him to serving as a rubber stamp.”  
“Why do you think he failed at restoring the Hegemony?”  
“Remember what I said about gammas being disruptive to order?” he waited for Thalassa to nod, “Kerensky lacked the basic leadership, which led him to the ultimate disruption of a system that he could not manipulate, the Exodus.”  
“Well, isn’t that some evidence of leadership?” the Adept was very interested.  
“Gammas are less leaders than they are manipulators,” instructed the mercenary, “Kerensky believed the mythology generated about his performance on toppling Emperor Amaris, many of the servile beta men and women in the SDLF were just as deluded.” He continued, “That mass delusion explains the willingness of many of the SLDF rank and file to violate their oaths and desert their posts to follow Kerensky.”  
“What do you think happened to them?”  
“Kerensky made sure to kidnap thousands of slaves from towns and factories, many of them engineers and technicians,” he began, “he also had his stooges rob warehouses and depots of supplies, so all the deserters had to do is find a habitable world.” He paused for a moment, “Kerensky would set himself up as an insufferable, narcissistic god king and rule with an iron hand, so I’d expect a bloody rebellion or two.”  
Adept Thalassa bowed his head in contemplation, “I find your insight incredibly interesting,” he handed Dumare a data crystal, “these are the personal dossiers of everybody assigned to this colony, including the dropship crews, I want you to assess all of them, assign them ratings and make any comments you consider necessary that contributes to the success of this colony.”  
The mercenary made a face, “Seriously, paperwork?”  
Thalassa chuckled, “I’m sorry, but this is power and responsibility too important to leave to some beta or worse, one of the many gammas, and you know who they are.”  
Dumare scoffed, “Any alpha could spot them immediately,” he rose to his feet and tucked the data crystal into a pocket, “When do you want this project completed?”  
The Adept put up his hands, “Take all the time you need, Captain, your input will matter in the long run.”

2130 Hours

Dimitra sat at the small desk in their dropship berth and looked over the data projected before her, “I can’t believe Thalassa gave you all this information.”  
“He trusts my judgement,” Dumare replied, “and rightly so, I know what this colony requires for success and we have to make sure the wrong people aren’t given too much influence.”  
“The wrong people?”  
“Like the IT section.”  
She nodded in acknowledgment, “Ohhhhh, yeah, those guys…”  
“It isn’t any surprise that women aren’t interested in them,” he observed, “well, not the desirable women.”  
“The realistic women know enough to aim their sights low,” added Dimitra, “I kind of feel sorry for the ones who are born unattractive, but some women don’t even try.”  
Dumare looked over his display, “Heh, I have a complete list of the paired couples and all the personal introductions from people looking for matches.”  
“Oh, no!” she laughed, “That’s like reading peoples’ private mail!”  
“’I consider myself eighty percent straight, love costumes and roleplay…’” Dumare shook his head, “here’s another computer technician who will be playing holovid games until he dies…alone.”  
Dimitra put her hand over her face, “As true as that may be, you really don’t have to be so cruel about it.” She shook, trying to stifle her laughter. “So, this is the base of your republic?”  
“Republics are only slightly worse than democracies,” replied the mercenary, “only an idiot believes that a hundred people could make better decisions than one man.”  
Dimitra frowned, “Hey, Greece did just fine with democracy!”  
“Yes, having seventy-five percent of the population as slaves gave the citizens of Athens much more time to think and invade their neighbors,” he told her, “and giving the inferior menials a voice has only ruined societies whenever it has been tried.”  
“So, a caste system?”  
“Definitely,” he replied, “stratification creates order based upon contribution to society as a whole.”  
“Oh, a meritocracy…”  
He interrupted, “Don’t say that, it’s the vulgar term used by people who know nothing of government,” he corrected, “the proper word is aristocracy, the rule of the best.”  
She looked confused, “You would establish a nobility?”  
He shook his head, “That’s the ‘dictionary of common usage’ definition, which is what pedestrians or amateurs who think they learned anything in political science courses would use,” he continued, “An aristocracy means the people most qualified would rule, it was the noble classes who made the assumption that it referred to them.”  
“So, a monarchy, then?” she asked.  
“That seems to be the most stable and efficient, historically,” said Demare, “The Star League, the Houses, the lasting governments of Terra, all were essentially monarchies, with parliaments to handle the menial, nonessential details of daily operation, like trash collection and train schedules.”  
“You seem to have put some thought into this,” she commented.  
“All leaders think about what they would do if they had the power and opportunity to build a better world,” replied Dumare, “We all see how others fail, how the quality of our lives is cheapened due to lesser men in positions of power.”  
“Yes, I’ve always pondered about what I would so if I were put in charge,” mused Dimitra, “I guess any employee wonders that.”  
The mercenary shook his head, “You’d be amazed at the number of people who avoid responsibility and positions of leadership,” he continued, “many people are just sheep, too many.”  
She nodded in agreement, “Agreed, even among my team, when projects come up, the same people step up to lead, each time,” Dimitra stretched and shifted in her chair, “and the same people shirk any leadership roles at all…” She perked up, “So, does that mean I’m going to be the queen?”  
Dumare laughed, “Of course, I picked you, after all.”  
She shrugged, “That may be, but you seem to be the harem type, not that I would mind, as long as I’m the first wife.”  
“I’m glad you are so understanding.”

July 15  
0900 Hours

Adept Thalassa was buoyant, “Captain Dumare, I finished your report and I’m thankful I picked you for that project.”  
The captain took a sip of his coffee, “I’m glad you like it, I also included some long-term organizational recommendations.”  
“I saw those!” the adept replied, “I was up late reading them, you are quite the philosopher!” He leaned forward and asked, “You also mentioned a variety of problems, which do you consider the most serious?”  
“I’ll start with the most serious,” began Dumare, “First, we are all employees here, which is problematic, because we have no real economy here, there’s nowhere to spend the money we earn.”  
Thalassa nodded, “Some of the people brought that up, and asked about ordering things to deliver.”  
“I know there should be a dropship every six months for regular supplies, although the jumpship will be on station for another week, so people may place orders for what they may want until it leaves,” replied Dumare, “I’ve already seen the lists submitted by the engineers and computer technicians, I’ve submitted a few suggestions for getting some of the farms and fields back into production while Nu’ukai has great ideas for constructing salt pans and fish ponds for aquaculture.”  
“You seem to be on top of it,” said the adept, “I’ll be sure put out a notice for last-minute orders.”  
“I’m not done yet,” interrupted Demare, “this colony shall eventually be self-sustaining, save for a few components for machinery and medicines, what is there for an economy?” He paused to finish the last of his coffee, “People will either produce items on their own time, or trade services on their own time, which means exchanging C-Bills or bartering products or services, which may cause problems.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I’ve been a mercenary for years, adept,” he began, “I have spent years campaigning alongside men and women, many of whom were undesirable to the opposite sex, so either they looked to buy or sell services, or they used force.”  
The adept raised an eyebrow, “Do you think that might happen here?”  
“We’ve been only here for about a month,” Dumare answered, “after about three months, I fully expect to see problems, especially among the gammas,” he explained, “I’d also keep tight control over the medical supplies and the equipment that could be used to bootleg alcohol -If soldiers could do it, any tech with a chemistry background could easily do it.”  
Thalassa shook his head, “Huh…I wish I had consulted you months before we left, while we were still selecting volunteers,”  
Dumare chuckled, “Effective strategy is more than simply planning, as Clausewitz put it, ‘Some generals consider only unilateral action, whereas war consists of a continuous interaction of opposites … no strategy ever survives the first engagement with the enemy.’” He continued, “Dealing with other people is also dynamic, we could make plans but sometimes those plans don’t account for the actions taken by others.”  
The adept grinned, “So, you look at other people as enemies?”  
“Potential,” responded Dumare, “Right now, I’d say competitors, more or less, mostly less, but once we begin reorganizing, I expect some opposition, and I may have to crush them.”  
“You seem to be looking forward to that.”  
Dumare laughed, “You know it.”  
Adept Thalassa turned to a metal office cabinet and placed a key in the lock. “One of the crewmen working on the plumbing in a collapsed cellar found a safe that contained this.” He unlocked the cabinet and pulled out a data crystal, “This is a recorded message about fifty years old, recorded by a settler while the town was still inhabited.” He handed the data crystal to Dumare, “I am the only one to view the recording, I know you’ll have to sense to keep it secret, but I want your opinions.”  
The mercenary nodded and pocketed the data crystal.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumare takes the data crystal back to his berth aboard the dropship in order to view its contents. A video reveals some answers as to what happened decades before, but also raises many far more serious questions.

An elderly woman wearing a white coat sat at a desk in what looked like a business office. The room was spartan, save a couple of framed certificates on the wall and a few photographs. Her should-length hair was wavy and gray, and she wore a pair of simple, wire-framed glasses.  
“My name is Doctor Elizabeth Ferguson. It is the eighth of November, 2874. If you are viewing this holovid, I have likely been murdered. It has been about a century since the last Terran Hegemony ship has arrived to maintain the orbital storm inhibitors, and the remaining satellites in orbit have been gradually failing to keep the planet’s climate from dropping.”

“The planet’s population has fallen from over one hundred thousand to less than half that,” she said, “We get occasional visits from pirates, but they are too afraid to attack the town, proper, choosing to raid the outlying farms and orchards beyond the coal mine, but these were the primary sources of food and fuel, after the fishing trawler was attacked and sank in a pirate raid and the refinery shut down, its workers evacuated not long after the Hegemony supply deliveries stopped. ”

“About fifty years ago, a couple of fishermen hoping to catch salmon discovered what was believed to be a megalithic burial mound of indeterminate age,” she explained, “at first, we all believed it to be a prank, probably done by Star League engineers, long ago,” she shook her head, “we had no idea how wrong we were, at the time.”

“Unwilling to wait for the geology experts, the fishermen used one of the tractors to force the entrance and returned to Innsmouth with a small hoard of gold articles. They also reported a human corpse, but in their greed to loot the site, they practically demolished the grave and the burial chamber,” she indicated a star-shaped object on the desk, “They also found this, a carven stone key, which they kept secret for a long time.”

“Some of our scientists examined the remains found in the chamber and concluded that it was a middle-aged human male with a number of minor physical defects, such as webbed hands and unusually large eye sockets, she pointed out, “All of that caused a bit of a stir concerning the health of the citizens, and possible effects of radiation or exposure to toxic material dump sites. As for the actual age of the megalith, we had no method to measure its age available.”

“I was still a child when this all happened, but I remember some of it,” she said, “some people began behaving oddly, starting with the two fishermen…” she leaned forward, “they began to keep to themselves and avoided the company of others, which didn’t concern anybody for a while.”

“Months later, the two men asked for permission to reopen the abandoned church and the town council allowed it, citing the need for moral strength and guidance,” she shook her head, “That was the beginning of the real problems, as the two men called the reopened church the ‘Temple of Dagon’ based upon dreams and visions they purported to have had following their discovery of the megalith, soon, they were joined by several other people.”

“The temple drew a lot of attention, as it explained why the planet was suddenly isolated,” the woman said, “that the people of Innsmouth were chosen for divine protection, away from the wars that plagued the fallen Star League, insulated from the corruption that caused so much death and destruction, and the settlers gathered every week to hear the two self-proclaimed priests of Dagon preach their message of salvation.”

“At first, their message was welcome and reassuring to the general populace, but eventually, their message became divisive and critical of the settlers who showed no interest in their temple. Eventually, temple members controlled the town council and suddenly the Dagon faction had the power over the rationing system imposed due to the acute shortages.”

“The ownership of firearms under the Terran Hegemony was always strictly controlled and there was little opposition to the town council declaring all firearms as community property, and the settlers willingly turned all of their weapons and munitions over to the town government. Citizens were permitted access to a weapon for authorized hunting forays, but the council kept meticulous inventory of every bullet issued.”

“The council’s draconian policies fueled unrest among the people who were unaffiliated with the temple but that changed when the council somehow produced a large haul of seafood; Fish, clams, crabs, squid and lobster that they freely distributed to the populace. They also managed to find stores of coal and fuel oil, which meant light and heat for the winter months. These incidents attracted throngs of devotees to the doors of the temple.”

“The council took advantage of their new popularity and asked for volunteers to restore services they considered essential, such as opening the mine, harvesting, tending the herds, even running the sawmill. The turnout was impressive, and things looked positive for a while, but as usual, people started to complain over the division of labor and who was benefiting the most.”

“During that time, I attended school, which would shorten on days that teachers and students would be transported to the orchard or fields to pick fruits and vegetables. Every week, members of the Temple of Dagon would make presentations in the classrooms and they would make certain we were all well fed and aware of our civic duties and obligations.”

“Some of the parents weren’t happy about the indoctrination but were willing to give lip service to the temple in exchange for food and comfort. The situation lasted about ten years before a jumpship contacted the mayor’s office, which caused a significant stir among the settlers, who were very wary of the possibility of pirates. The jumpship declared that they were from a SLDF contingent and requested a status report, which the mayor’s office gladly delivered. The mayor was shortly informed that a dropship was inbound to give the colony protection and support, which was met with great celebration.”

“The dropship was loaded with food, fuel, much needed medical supplies and a lance of battlemechs, the leader of whom pledged his loyal defense of the colony and its people. It was soon after that the town council enacted several laws for the safety of the public, such as a full database of the colony’s medical records, especially vaccinations,” she added, “There was something they were looking for, as I was subjected to having an examination, blood, urine, and a few other tests. I didn’t know it at the time but we all were submitting to detailed DNA testing.”

“It wasn’t long after that people began to disappear, first while they were away from Innsmouth then they’d be reported missing from their homes. Since we really didn’t have dedicated detectives to investigate, let alone a police force, it was up to a handful of volunteers to determine the cause of the disappearances. The volunteers were a quirky bunch of eccentrics who weren’t suitable for the essential duties, save as menial labor, but they were intelligent and eager to solve the mystery.”

“Despite their energy and optimism, the would-be investigators couldn’t find any evidence at all, while people kept disappearing, about one every week. They finally approached the town council and asked if they could install security cameras about town, which was permitted, privacy concerns notwithstanding. After some weeks of discouraging results, one of the members concluded that perhaps people were not being taken but were actually leaving on their own accord.”

“The town council considered the theory preposterous and dismissed the team, with somber gratitude. The team members, adamant about solving the mystery, kept working, nonetheless, even questioning the priests of Dagon about the content of their sermons. The priests complained to the town council, who strongly admonished the team, but the council admitted that they no longer employed the men in any fashion, so they were free to ask questions so long as they didn’t actively harass anyone.”

Dr. Ferguson paused for a moment and took a breath, “Let me first talk about the Temple of Dagon. The two men who found the megalithic structure believed that they had proof that Terra was first settled by ancient travelers, led by Dagon, who was also called the Lord of the Abyss. They didn’t make clear who these travelers were, if they were humans or some other manner of aliens but their contention was that Dagon appeared to them in dreams and instructed the two to dedicate a temple to whom they contended was the first and most ancient god of Terra.”

“Some of the settlers searched what database we had for information concerning Dagon and we all found the same, brief information of the Babylonian pantheon and the paragraph or two concerning the Dagon of Mesopotamia. Information was scant and there was much speculation on the meaning of the word ‘Abyss’ as well. Babylonian mythos stated that the abyss was the underworld of the dead, while others theorized that it referred to the depths of the oceans of Terra, as Dagon’s human worshippers were a sea-going race. One last theory called the abyss a reference to the vast darkness of outer space.”

“According to the temple’s pamphlets, Dagon offered a paradise for his followers, who would be willing to enter or cross the abyss to join him. The team of investigators called the temple’s doctrines into question and asked for some basis for their claims. The priests relented and placed the artifacts they removed from the mound on display. They even allowed certain parties to examine the gold and stone artifacts. The investigation team was able to take images of the artifacts and spent more weeks researching the images and curious script molded in gold and etched into stone.”

“In good faith, the team released their findings publicly, with copies of their data and opinions available to anybody who requested it. It was their conclusion that some of the artifacts contained a map of the continent and text like that of the ancient Phoenicians, although they could not translate any of it. Utilizing images taken from orbit, the team searched to terrain that corresponded with the images on the artifacts. They agreed that the Valborg River, named after the company that operated the seafood cannery, was clearly identifiable and that it led to a mountain range in the distance. With that knowledge, dozens of volunteers stepped forward to explore, including one of the high priests.”

“Much time was placed on planning the trek across the continent, provisions gathered, and equipment secured. The SLDF dropship was made available, as were two battlemechs, and twenty volunteers selected. The morale among the colonists was very high in those days, people were optimistic, and it was also reported that there was a significant drop in reports of missing people. The dropship departed with great fanfare and for a month, people eagerly waited for good news.”

“But there was no good news. After a month, the dropship returned and following a hurried meeting with the Innsmouth council, it was announced that the expedition had found a location where the Valborg River met the mountain range and to their dismay, they found several corpses, in addition to dozens of people who were barely alive after walking from the town, across over fifteen hundred kilometers of wilderness, with minimal provisions or protective clothing.”

“It was the high priest who explained what may have happened. He told the council that Dagon communicated with his devotees through dreams and perhaps the people who had wandered into the cold wilderness were subject to suggestion. The interviews of the few survivors confirmed the theory that the missing people had vivid dreams about being called by a calm voice and they walked from town, almost in a dream state. It was immediately ordered that vehicles be dispatched to search and rescue other ‘walkers’ along the path between Innsmouth and the distant mountains.”

“The council also established regular patrols around the town, especially along the river, to intercept ‘walkers’ who might wander out of town. Due to the work in rounding up ‘walkers’ and recovering the dead, the exploration team was unable to fulfil its primary mission and when again made ready, they planned to attempt another sortie. The high priest of Dagon was certain that what they searched for was near the cliff where most of the bodies were discovered. Again, the dropship traversed the continent to find whatever Dagon was calling random people to find.”

“The exploration team established that the base of the cliff would be their starting point and one of the battlemechs indicated an area where its sensors had detected energy and machinery. The cliff was solid basalt and after hours with picks and sledgehammers, the battlemechs took turns at kicking at a location suspected of being near the doors indicated on the map. As sheets of the solid rock crumbled at the battlemechs’ assault, the explorers exulted at the appearance of a flat, bronze surface, polished to a mirrorlike sheen and engraved with more of the Phoenician glyphs. After a few hours of demolition work, the battlemechs managed to clear away the layer of basalt that covered the twin doors, as illuminated on the artifacts. The door to the right had a star-shaped depression, about shoulder height. The high priest uttered a prayer and unwrapped the key stone from its silk shroud.”

“As a young girl, I saw images of those titanic doors, they were at least twenty meters in height and together, nearly the same width. They appeared to be bronze but despite the battering needed to remove the layer of stone, they still were mirror polished, without a hint of marring. The high priest requested that the others stand back while he hefted the keystone into the depression. The explorers reported that the ground shook as the arcane mechanism hidden beneath the mountain caused the massive portals to swing slowly inward, and it seemed that the very mountain exhaled a cold breath.”

“The high priest straightened and confidently strode forward, into the darkness. The explorers followed, albeit more cautiously, a few brought hand torches. The floor was polished, black basalt, and a few seconds after the high priest entered the first chamber, bright lights flared to life from the vaulted ceiling. The battlemechs then walked slowly into the cavernous room. The walls were covered with painted ceramic tiles, and some of the sections depicted geometric shapes, images and the curious glyphs yet undeciphered.”

“At the far end of the hall was a dais, constructed of the same material as the massive portals, to the right of the dais, on the wall to the north, was another pair of cyclopean doors, ornately decorated but without a place for a keystone. The high priest looked over the dais for several minutes, then slumped his shoulders, he could not fathom the controls. He looked over the array of knobs, levers and switches and decided that Dagon had not yet chosen a time to reveal his secrets.”

“The explorers each took turns examining the controls, made notes and took images of the arcane symbols but dared not touch any of them. Nobody could read the ancient script and could only speculate on the meaning of the various symbols. They agreed to retire to the dropship, but the high priest was unable to determine how to close the entrance. He had tried removing the key stone but without result. It was determined that one battlemech and five explorers remained to keep watch at the site overnight.”

“The next morning came and the explorers were astonished to find the men who stood guard over the hall were gone, as was the battlemech. The doors to the right of the dais were open. The second battlemech attempted to contact the missing machine but with no success. For some reason, the party guarding the entrance had gone into the unknown depths of the mountain. The high priest wondered if Dagon had summoned them and instructed them to use the dais.”

“Volunteers were selected and the remaining battlemech accompanied them into the hall, through the inner doors, and down the corridor to find the others. Another group was chosen to keep watch and when the next morning arrived, the giant bronze doors were again sealed shut, and the guards nowhere in sight. Most distressing was the fact that the key stone, the only method to open the ponderous doorway, was gone as well. The explorers returned to Innsmouth, and an inquiry held by the council. Fifteen men and two battlemechs were missing, with no explanation possible. Coincidentally, no more people were reported missing after that time.”

“Two months later, one of the missing explorers returned to his home. He was very ill due to exposure and had to have several toes amputated because of frostbite. He was filthy and suffered from many small cuts and what looked like animal bites. He was in shock and it was a miracle that he survived. He remained unconscious for two days after his surgery and it was another two days before he was well enough to answer questions.”

She pulled a small, worn, leather bound book from her pocket. “That man was my father, he was among the second group of men guarding the site, and this is his journal,” she opened the book to a marked page, “At dusk, the five of us settled in for the evening. We brought a portable stove for heat and to make tea. After the watches were selected, those of us not on duty laid out our sleeping bags and turned in. It was just after midnight, local time, that I was shaken awake by Smythe, who told me that Jones, who had been on watch, was gone and the entrance doors closed. We fought off the initial panic and gathered our wits. Despite the warnings against touching the controls on the dais, we sketched the current layout and attempted to reason out the meanings of the various symbols. It was figured that opening and closing a door would be an on/off affair, so we eliminated the dials and slides, which left us with a dozen or so levers and switches with which to contend.”

“Much to our dismay, many of the controls seemed to be locked in place, and we desperately searched the dais, which was a column of solid bronze, for any hidden features, without success. After three hours of fruitless effort, we reached a consensus to venture forward, through the open portal, into the unknown depths of the mountain. Higgins took point and Smythe, who carries the pistol, backed him up, about 20 paces behind. Garrido and I took up the rear, another 10 paces in trail. With the main doors sealed, the complex was surprisingly comfortable, and we wondered what manner of environmental system would maintain that level of comfort. The long, wide corridor was lit by lighting embedded in the high ceiling. As we walked, the hall was totally silent, save for the echoes of our footsteps and occasional comments and observations.”

“We estimated that we had covered about five kilometers before we encountered an enormous lift. It was fashioned of the same sturdy material that resembled bronze and there were unfathomable controls that after minutes if trying, were also locked from operation. After some examination, we concluded that we could squeeze between the platform and the frame and climb down to where we believed the others had gone before us.”

“While we climbed the metal framework, we discussed our theories on who had constructed the complex. Smythe insisted on his assertion that only the Terran Hegemony could master such technologies and the structure was part of many of the massive Star League Defense Force bases that were used to defend Terra.  
“Garrido laughed at Smythe’s patriotic bias and theorized that the complex was obviously ancient and was doubtless of alien origin. That sparked a rigorous debate concerning pyramids, Atlantis and how human capabilities are both over- and under- estimated. I was certain the two of them would have come to blows if they weren’t so busy climbing. About a hundred down, Higgins claimed he could hear the sound of machinery. We strained our ears and faint as the sound was, we could also hear it.”

“We continued our climb down, now cautiously and without conversation. Plans and contingencies were whispered back and forth, with debate about negotiation versus initiating violence. We were entering unknown territory, we knew of no attacks against us, so how would we face the people who owned this massive fortress? Smythe agreed to keep his revolver pocketed until it was needed. Just above an opening, out group paused for a breath. The sound of machinery, voices and powered tools drifted up to where we clung to the lift’s supporting frame.”

“Higgins went down to have a peek and returned to our position. He reported that it appeared to be a workshop of some manner, with compartments, scaffolding and catwalks, with a handful of workers, in full environmental gear. Smythe mentioned that it sounded like they were battlemech bays that he had read about. Higgins also mentioned that there were battlemechs in some of the bays, one of them was the first battlemech to disappear, while he could not recognize the others. Smythe became gleeful, he claimed to have been correct in assessing the complex as a secret SLDF base and perhaps we should just turn ourselves in. Higgins warned that perhaps the base belonged to one of the Houses, and that our presence would not be very welcome. That comment merely sparked another debate on how the Houses could never possibly construct such a facility.”

“As we really had no alternative, moving forward was the only choice, although we did discuss the possibility of bypassing the repair floor and continuing down, further into the depths. The opening was blocked by a two-meter high wire fence gate, over which we had no trouble climbing. Higgins was first, and he helped each of us as we climbed from the framework and back onto the polished, black floor. Oddly, it took a while for anybody to notice our presence, possibly due to their confidence in their security or perhaps their attention to their work. Eventually, one of the workers spotted us, tapped the worker beside him and pointed.”

“You cannot imagine the relief that we weren’t immediately gunned down or that a loud klaxon horn didn’t blare out an alarm. Instead, two of the workers climbed down from their scaffolds and walked over to us, their posture slightly stooped and their gait unusual. Smythe, the most technical savvy of the group, surmised that their protective gear and other equipment accounted for their posture and hampered their ability to walk. Whispered discussion about why people would require full body protection, began and in the minute the pair of strangers crossed the cavernous work area, we were still wondering if the environment in the facility was toxic.”

“Oddly, the workers didn’t utter a word, they motioned for us to follow them and turned around. We pelted them with questions, but they paid no heed as they walked past the battlemech bays and into another massive corridor. Higgins closed his eyes and said we were heading west, by his reckoning. When asked what lay West, beyond the mountain range, Higgins was certain it was ocean. Our guides didn’t seem to mind us talking amongst ourselves and we again engaged in speculation.”

“Our guides let us to a door, it was bronze, just like the like the massive doors at the entrance, as well as the inner portals, but only about three meters high. They opened the door and motioned for us to enter. We stepped into the dimly lit room and were met by three of the others, who had ventured into the facility with the second battlemech. The three had been asleep and after being awoken, taken at gunpoint by their fellows and brought here. The second battlemech pilot, one Lieutenant Ziegler, was also taken prisoner but separated from them and taken elsewhere.”

“The room was spartan, it had a sink with a tap, and a connecting restroom. The others had their sleeping bags, as we also carried ours, and they were happy that we still possessed our portable stove and a decent supply of tea. We were informed that our captors would bring food and drinks every six or so hours, and that the meals were of decent quality; Hot stews, soup, bread and fresh salad, which made us wonder how they were being supplied with vegetables, grains and meat.”  
“When we asked about which men of out group took them prisoner, they gave us a list, and underscored the fact that they were led by the commander of the SLDF battlemech lance, Major Charles Dumare.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The colony briefing was routine until the revelation of an ancient megalith not far away from Innsmouth. Does it mean the planet was once populated by an ancient civilization? Some think it a hoax, planted by military engineers decades earlier, just to mess with the civilians.

The meeting tent was filled with nearly all the colonists that weren’t on duty. A handful chose not to attend in person but would monitor the meeting as broadcast via holovid. The threat of the prowling “ferals”, as the colonists referred to the uncaptured remnants of the previous, collapsed colony, required posting several armed guards around the new perimeter fence, as well as one of the battlemechs, as a security monitor.  
Acolyte Thalassa stepped up to the podium and placed a few notes upon it, “Thank all of you for attending, and thank you to those watching this broadcast,” he began, “Before we begin the reports, please make certain you watch the final summation and announcement, I assure you, you will find the revelations surprising and thought provoking.” He smiled in a bland manner and motioned to the acolytes waiting their turn to speak, “Acolyte Savra, our lead geologist, shall now give her report.”  
The young woman bowed slightly, her calm face bearing a slight smile, as she adjusted her glasses, “The blessings of Blake upon you all!”  
“The blessings of Blake to you!” responded most of the audience.  
Dumare sat with his wife, silent but attentive. Dimitra leaned over and whispered. “How does she rate?”  
“The robe hides a lot,” he whispered, in response, “but she moves well.”  
“She’s been asking about you,” said the woman, “so, if you’re interested…”  
“Sure,” he didn’t even have to think about it. His previous wife was possessive, but Dimitra understood him.  
The Acolyte was wrapping up her report, Dumare thought how cheerfully delivered it was, plenty of positive information of fish and crustacean fossils, bedrock, shale and layers of crude oil as predicted. Before she left the podium, her eyes met his and she turned away, shyly.  
Dimitra was with the team of people reporting on the “ferals” they had in captivity. The collapse of their society was disastrous. Most of them could barely speak, which made communication a challenge. The few elder feral people were able to tell them of an earlier time when they could recall living in the buildings in town, before pirate raids drove them into the nearby caves and mines, some of which, had not yet been explored. Dumare shook his head, the security team was only ten people, having them explore a mineshaft possibly inhabited by feral humans would be risky. He muttered, “Our shopping mall cops are not ready for it.”  
“Overall, the feral people were in poor health,” reported Dimitra, “Aside from severe malnutrition, they suffered from parasites, infections, sores, some had untreated fractures and a host of conditions often found in war zones, after prolonged conflict.”  
“The feral young are learning to communicate,” she added, “but civilizing all of them will take time and for many of us, as this is new and unexpected, for example, teaching the adults how to use a toilet, as well as basic hygiene and how to wear clothing -All those things we take for granted on Terra.” She looked about the audience, “If any of you have the time, and a lot of patience, the medical staff could use volunteers.”  
There were stifled chuckles, which stopped when Adept Thalassa stood up to speak, “There are several important projects, unforeseen issues, that will require volunteers,” he announced, “please pay attention to the remaining reports, we shall be taking a list of volunteers over the next few days and figuring out compensation for extra work.”  
Dozens of conversations suddenly broke out, after the colonists learned that they could earn more pay. “That got their attention,” murmured the mercenary. He patted his binder and checked his watch, “Pretty soon.”

After the first hours of reports, Thalassa called for a short break of coffee and sandwiches. The captain stepped out of the tent to enjoy a cigarette. “How are you enjoying the reports?” Dimitra stood beside him.  
“Need a volunteer?” asked, “If you have a couple of feral, teenage females, I’d be happy to teach them all they need to know.”  
She rolled her eyes, “It takes all I have to make sure none of the male techs are alone with the females,” Dimitra told him, “they’ve been taught all their lives that they only have one thing to offer the men.”  
“As Nature intended,” added Dumare, “I don’t know where people got the idea that there could ever be matriarchies -Real men won’t stand for it.”  
“Point taken,” she replied, “if the anthropologists I went to school with were here to see this, their heads would explode.”  
Dumare chuckled, “The ‘Noble Savage’ types, eh?” He took one last drag from his cigarette and crushed it against the sole of his boot, “They think that without civilization, people would revert to a natural, passive and cooperative state, like innocent children -That crap is for science-fantasy holovids.”  
“Now, you are just making them out to be idiots,” she scolded mildly.  
“That bonehead theory has been proven wrong, time and again,” said the mercenary, “Sure, there have been savages friendly to outsiders -That’s only because those travelers never got to see the ugly side of that primitive culture,” he shook his head, “It would be like only seeing a big, pristine city and being totally unaware of the massive landfill a few kilometers away.”  
Dimitra adjusted her white lab coat, “It looks like the break is over.”  
The next hour of reports included many positive updates to ongoing projects, just as running water and hot shower facilities in the compound, so people didn’t have to make the trek to the remaining dropship, which served as the living quarters for most of the colonists. The engineers apologized for the slow work with the instillation of the needed infrastructure but promised that the permanent billets would be constructed and ready for habitation, before the arrival of Winter, the news of which brought applause from the audience.  
The team of biologists and agriculture technicians gave an impressive report on the potential of sustainable food supply, based on returning the fields and orchards to operation, and revitalized fishing.  
“What are you thinking?” whispered Dimitra.  
“Not enough Indians,” Dumare replied in a whisper.  
“Hindus?”  
“Thalassa didn’t consider the need for plain labor,” he explained, “other than the grunts, we only have techs, who don’t expect to do anything more than sit at terminals and exchange data, only the engineers come close, when they have to use shovels and hand tools -the fields can be harvested by machinery but not gardens or orchards, those needs hands, and a lot of them.”  
“That’s why we need to ask for volunteers,” Dimitra replied.  
“Isn’t that my point?” indicated the captain, “I would have brought a ten to twenty percent force of general laborers to do the heavy lifting, construction, digging, farming and harvesting, without having to divert techs to do work that they’ve never done, ever,” he continued, “these people are used to living off of frozen or dehydrated rations; To make the colony truly sustainable, somebody will have to grind the flour and bake the bread on an industrial scale, and not depend on a handful of part-time volunteers.”  
“You have been thinking, haven’t you?”  
“Wait until you hear my report.”

Dumare lit up his cigarette and wondered if the previous colonists raised tobacco, instead of depending on regular shipments of supplies. He had enough cigs in storage for a year of regular use, if he rationed his consumption to ten or less smoke breaks a day, he chuckled to himself when a thought of Sergeant Chrisman, who inhaled at least forty unfiltered cigarettes every day, sometimes with one in each hand.  
“You seem thoughtful tonight,” Dimitra was at his side and took his free hand in hers.  
“Why do people buy bread?”  
“That came out of nowhere…” she replied, “I suppose with a bread machine, people wouldn’t have to go out and buy bread.”  
“I’m talking about real bread,” said Dumare, “uniform quality, it doesn’t even have to be sliced.”  
“Who would buy bread that wasn’t sliced?”  
He gave her a look. “People buy bread because their time is worth something,” he answered, “even using a bread machine, it still takes up time to put the measured ingredients in the machine and allocate the time to be there to take the finished bread out of the machine,” he went on, “bakeries make bread on a mass scale, based upon demand, which is why grocery shelves are stocked with all sorts of breads for how much? Maybe half a C-bill each, for the decent stuff,” he looked at Dimitra, “if you use your little bread machine, based upon the value of your time, how much would a half kilogram of bread be worth?”  
“Okay, you’ve made your point,” she assented, “the people who bake their own bread tend to be those who actually enjoy baking bread.”

The break ended, and the audience thinned out to about a third, which Dumare expected, as the remaining briefings scheduled were by the security personnel and nobody expected anything new or interesting. Those remaining deemed to be there for the hot beverages and pastries, as well as hanging out with their friends. Many who left showed little interest in volunteering for extra duties.  
The “shopping mall cops” had nothing new to report, so the briefing was a reminder that there were still hostile feral humans prowling outside the perimeter fence and people inside and outside on the compound should travel in groups, preferably under guard, since ComStar adhered to Terra’s centuries-old severe restrictions on firearms possession.  
Several people got up to leave when Dumare walked to the podium. Some of the technicians, especially a few of the younger acolytes, resented the presence of battlemechs, citing them as a “blatant exhibition of paranoid military aggression”, and contrary to Blake’s teachings, and efforts to rebuild Terra. They argued that the tonnage was wasted on useless war machinery instead of more important cargo.  
Dumare remained impassive as he took his place at the podium. “I would like to thank all of you in the audience for remaining, I shall try to be brief and to the point,” he held a small remote in his hand and activated the holovid projector, “The good news is…we haven’t had any indications of pirate activity in the last 10 years,” he began, “the bad news is, there was a visitation of a dropship, according to one of the feral women, around time of the birth of one of the children, who is about twelve years old,” he paused for a moment, “that means, somewhere there is a dropship crew and possibly several pirates, who know about this world,” he continued, “the pickings may be slim here, but there is plenty of food and water, and an abandoned system makes a good place to hide.”  
“As the head of all security, it has been brought to my attention that the previous colonists found something here that some of you might find interesting.” The holovid showed several men wearing clothing somewhat outdated, in Terran standards, gathered around a group of stone slabs, some of the slabs were standing, others strewn haphazardly nearby, as if the stones formed a structure and portions were pulled away.

“The colonists discovered what appears to be a megalithic burial mound,” he announced, which caused most of audience to perk up and pay attention, “unfortunately, some of the settlers looted the mound, using farming equipment and caused significant damage to the burial chamber corpse and glyphs of undetermined origin,” he use the remote to shift through several images of the site, of the remains being removed and images of writing carved on some of the stones. Immediately, some of the audience already had their data pads working and searched through the data library in the dropship for any kind of information.  
A hand went up, “Can we get copies of those images?”  
“Where is the site, and can we go there?”  
“Why haven’t we heard of any of this?”  
Dumare nodded, “What data we’ve uncovered is in the Hugin’s database, under ‘Megalith’, as with all of the projects, we are looking for volunteers,” he continued, concealing the fact that only the images found with Doctor Ferguson’s message appeared in his presentation but none of her message, “the megalith is about twenty kilometers up the river, we shall organize a party of volunteers, once we can assure the safety of the mission,” he paused for a moment, “this all happened after the SLDF retook Terra and this system was only in intermittent contact with anybody outside, we have to assume any word reporting the discovery was either lost or given a very low priority -some of the colonists assumed the whole thing a SLDF hoax, until they found the body.”  
Several people stood up, hands raised. “Allow me to continue, before any more questions,” said Dumare.  
“No, we want to sign up, now!” replied one of the technicians, “we want to be first in line for this!” The others nodded in agreement.  
“Well, thank you very much, we will be screening people for all of the jobs needed here in the colony,” Dumare told them, “some of you may be needed elsewhere.”  
“I didn’t come all this way to be a pea-picker!” cried the tech, “Look at all the people who walked out, because they have no interest in doing more than the minimal work required of them.”  
Dumare had to agree, these remaining people would be the most motivated. “You have a point, see me after the briefing.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “It is good to see so many people energized by this project,” he again projected the image of the megalith on the screen, “we can’t get our hopes too high, it may very well be a SLDF prank, but there are too many things that indicate it is not, and we may have made the most significant discovery for humanity in centuries,” he folded his notes, “Adept Thalassa has a few words to conclude tonight’s briefings.”

In their dropship berth, the mercenary and his woman relaxed and sipped red wine from fluted crystal glasses.  
“The briefing went well tonight,” commented Dumare, “I’ve been getting inquiry messages from a number of the people who walked out early.”  
The woman laughed, “You were spot on with your prediction,” she took a sip of her wine, “they lost all of their suspicions of you after you dangled the megalith in front of them.”  
He shook his head, “They are dissatisfied with their lives and seek something higher,” Dumare pulled a cigarette from its silver case and lit it with an aged lighter, “people like them look outside of their regular lives, join cults, study mysticism, read fantasy or science fiction, or find other forms of escapism.”  
“Do you consider ComStar a cult?”  
“Without a doubt!” replied Dumare, “Everybody in the Inner Sphere knows the actual history of ComStar, except for ComStar -they have rewritten their history and elevated Blake to sainthood,” the mercenary stated, “tell me, which pantheon of divinities bestowed sainthood upon him? What supreme being does ComStar worship that would give them a semblance of a religion?”  
The women made a face, “Our studies really don’t delve so deeply into the holy doctrines, at the acolyte level,” Dimitra peered at her watch, “Our guest will be here soon.”  
Dumare finished the last of his wine and refilled the glass, “Will you be joining us?” his face had a trace of a smirk, more from the woman’s evasion than the prospect of a threesome.  
The acolyte shrugged, “We’ll ask her,” she smiled slightly, “she seems like the shy type, but you never know.”  
“You are right about that,” said Dumare, “whenever a combat unit left Galatea, the wives would be trolling the bars before the dropships left atmosphere.”  
“Are all mercenary wives like that?” Dimitra appeared surprised.  
“All military wives are like that,” he replied, “sure, they may be pure and faithful at first, and after they have children,” said the mercenary, “but then the routine bores them, then they resent it,” he sipped his wine, “eventually they learn about their men fathering children on other worlds.”  
“You are being rather general here,” Dimitra pointed out, “you have to admit there are exceptions to the rule.”  
“There are always freaks, those afraid of diseases or worse, getting caught,” answered the mercenary, “they always mask their fear in some false nobility, such as sacred vows or some other moral posturing,” Dumare sneered, “celibacy violates Nature, plain and simple,” he declared, with great certainty, “look at all the cults that practiced celibacy -all resorted to adults secretly forcing themselves on children when denied the regularity of consenting adults.”  
“So, practicing celibacy meets your definition of a cult, too,” responded the woman.  
“As I said, the practice violates nature, as it denies the natural purpose of any species -reproduction and increase,” explained Dumare, “more reproduction means more mutations and therefore, increases the possibility of higher development.”  
“I see, you must believe in evolution, as opposed to divine creation.”  
“Only a fool would deny evolution,” he answered, “travel around the universe and you’d realize that there is no possibility that one, or a few divinities conjured all there is.”

Dimitra’s personal communicator chirped softly, “one moment,” she stood up, “she’s here, pour her a glass.”  
Dumare stood up and filled a third fluted glass with wine while Dimitra opened the door and greeted Acolyte Savra. The acolyte seemed shy and nervous as she stepped into the berth.  
“Please have a seat,” said Dimitra, “have some wine and relax.”  
Th-thank you, Acolyte Vathos,” murmured Savra, her voice soft.”  
“Call me Dimitra and let me introduce you to Vincent.”  
“I’m pleased to meet you, Vincent,” said Savra in a meek voice, “I guess Acolyte -I mean, Dimitra told you everything.”  
“You’re still not relaxed,” Dumare observed, “have a little wine and tell me your name.”  
“Oh, I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I’m Lily.”  
“That’s better,” the mercenary said, his tone calm and gentle, “Dimitra didn’t tell me everything, some of it, I wanted to hear from you, Lily, in your own words.”  
The acolyte seemed startled for a moment, as if she was taken by surprise. Her black hair was thick and wavy, her eyes dark and mild. The acolyte robes she wore hid most of her curves but her moves and mannerisms belied a natural grace. Except for her slightly darker skin tone, she and Dimitra could be mistaken for sisters.  
Lily took a breath and replied, “Um, I applied for this colonization mission for a change of routine, there really wasn’t much of anything interesting for me on Terra,” she explained, “and I wanted someplace new where I could start a family,” she fidgeted nervously, “and I heard some of the other acolytes talking about you.”  
Dumare smiled, he never cared what women thought of him, and wasn’t going to start, “But there are so many other men here,” he told Lily, “didn’t any of them appeal to you?”  
“Yes, some of them did,” she admitted, “but after telling Dimitra about them, she pointed out things I never noticed, or chose to overlook,” she paused to sip her wine, and seemed more relaxed and open, “I mean, some of them went out of their way to be nice and demonstrate how they were working on making improvements to the colony, and assuming the roles of leaders,” she told them, “but Dimitra opened my eyes on how they were only manipulating me, by posing as leaders and not really contributing as much as they claimed,” she leaned forward, a serious look on her face, “I asked Dimitra how she knew all those things and she revealed that she learned from you.”  
“Your reports are filled with factual data,” said Lily, “you give credit to members of your team and never resort to self-promotion, while some of the other acolytes cannot avoid a report that isn’t filled with personal references: ‘I did this’ or ‘I accomplished that.’”  
Dumare nodded, “Very good,” he stood up and finished his glass, “Unfortunately, there are a few legal things to get out of the way,” he picked up a packet of papers from the desk and handed them to Savra, “please read the packet thoroughly, and ask any questions if you require clarification,” he picked up a second packet, “I’ll summarize the content: This legally binding agreement waives any right to hold the party, Vincent Dumare, free of any and all liability, in the event of impregnation, or any condition hitherto related, including any and all medical expenses involved, and, following the birth of any and all offspring, further waives any and all claims of paternity or related expenses, thereof, all involved parties shall respect the privacy of the undersigned, and refrain from undue contact, save by mutual agreement,” the mercenary took a breath, “this agreement does no supersede and previous agreements, nor does it establish limits or conditions upon subsequent agreements,” he looked at Lily, “have you any questions?”  
The young woman shook her head and signed her packet and then his, while Dimitra signed as the legal witness.  
Dimitra placed Dumare’s copy of the agreement in an envelope and locked it away in a desk drawer, “For the best results, I suggest you have sex over the next three days.”  
The mercenary nodded, “I can handle that,” he informed her, “but this young lady might want to rest once in a while.”  
Lily covered her mouth in shock. Dimitra just gave him a stern look.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While a political power struggle slowly creates division among ComStar's ranks, Dumare explores the settlement's outlying farms and makes a surprising discovery.

0700 Hours

Acolyte Greenstein was furious, he stood in the dropship berth assigned to Security Chief Henke and shouted, “Lazy moron! How could you leave the meeting early?” his fist slammed the bulkhead, “You missed the most crucial report!”  
“You told me it was going to be routine,” replied Henke, calmly, “somebody could have called me.”  
“When I’m done with my evaluation, you’ll be back working in a shopping mall,” warned the acolyte, “you are ordered to take a slot with the group of volunteers for the megalith party.”  
“What if they aren’t taking any more volunteers?”  
“Damned idiot,” growled Greenstein, “pull your damn rank and insist at least one more armed guard go along,” his face scowled, “the site may be a hoax, but if it isn’t, contact me immediately!”  
“It shall be done, Acolyte,” replied Henke. He pulled his jacket over his broad shoulders and waited for Greenstein to leave the berth before extinguishing the lights. “I’ll have to deal with that damned mercenary in order to be added to the list of volunteers.”

“This is Black Knight, current location is at the mining site,” transmitted Dumare, “position locator concurs.”  
Acolyte Odagawa nodded, “Your secondary radar confirms your location,” he adjusts his settings, “we should have the global navigation system running in a couple of weeks, if the sats just require a swap of circuit boards and updated software.”  
“That will make patrolling easier,” the mercenary agreed, “we won’t have to rely on the dropship beacon or inertial for navigation.” He expanded his navigation display and noted a new marker several kilometers away, one he had never seen before. In fact, after the satellites were repaired and reactivated, the navigation system in his battlemech indicated several navigation points with labels, none of which he recognized.  
The closest marker was labelled “Arkham Manor” and he turned his Black Knight toward the road and exited the mining site. “Kona Crab, this is Black Knight.”  
“Go ahead, Black Knight,” Nu’ukai responded.  
“I’ll be doing some exploring, about fifty kilometers from my current position,” Dumare reported, “updates to follow -Black Knight, out.”  
“Roger.”

0800 Hours

Acolyte Thalassa’s face bore the bland smile of a bureaucrat, “Is that your only request?” He glanced at the list of names on his display.  
“Yes,” Henke replied, “I consider the security of the personnel on this project my personal responsibility,” his voice was insistent.  
“I see,” the acolyte said, he made a change to the list, “that is good to hear, I have made the change, you’ll have to report to Acolyte Bond for further assignments.”  
Henke’s jaw dropped, “Wait, I’m not in charge?”  
Thalassa made a face, “You’re just a volunteer, one of two armed guards,” he informed Henke, “so, do your assigned duties and try to stay out of the way -you are just an employee here.”  
Henke stomped off, muttering. At least that bastard Greenstein will have no reason to whine at him, this time.

The Black Knight trudged along the barely discernible trace of roadway under the layer of snow. The colony was founded near the planet’s equator and was in the grip of an Ice Age before the Terran Hegemony explored the planet for resource deposits. After the drilling and mining began, it was determined that the world only required minimal terraforming to render the world available for sustainable human habitation. The Star League’s collapse doomed the world to isolation and its terraforming technologies slowly failed over the decades, extending the winter months and lowering the planet’s temperatures. The crews working on the carbon dioxide factories toiled to get those generators operating, after so many years of neglect, and they were very optimistic.  
Dumare could make out the snow-coated remnants of fences and walls, orchards of trees long dead, the ruins of dwellings, and carcasses of vehicles. He wondered if such a collapse of civilization was inevitable. Despite months of research, none of the ComStar scientists could reach a conclusion on how and why a community of over one hundred thousand disappeared with hardly any trace or evidence. Dumare really didn’t like playing detective on this kind of scale, and none of the other colonists were up to the challenge, either. The only mystery he had before him was the handful of navigation points programmed into his battlemech’s system. If his father was on this planet as a soldier, it would mean that his mother had lied -He wasn’t born out in the Periphery, he was born on this planet and his mother had a reason to steal his father’s Black Knight and leave.  
“Arkham Manor,” Dumare said to himself, several vague images flashed through his mind, of a huge house where he played as a child, his parents, it was all very cloudy, like a forgotten dream that dissipates after waking, no matter how much you try to remember. He examined the navigation display, the megalith site was marked, the town center was marked, the three petroleum drilling sites were marked and there was a location labelled near the mountain range to the north as “Dagon’s Gate”. It was doubtless the massive metal doorway that led to the strange, underground facility, possibly a remnant of the Star League. It had been over three decades; Would anybody still be there? He had read that Star League era Castles Brian could contain and support two battlemech brigades with ease. Such a facility could easily shelter a smaller unit for years on end, given adequate power and supplies. He would have to investigate that himself.

1100 Hours

“I’ve printed out briefing packets for each of us, with duty assignments,” announced Acolyte Bond, “The only significant change is that our head of security, David Henke, will be joining us in Gomez’s place.”  
Henke raised a hand.  
“Yes?”  
Henke stood up and cleared his throat, “I see here you have me assigned to helping with washing dishes and camp cleanup.”  
“Yes?”  
“There are only two armed guards assigned to the site,” Henke said, “I’m not comfortable with that.”  
The acolyte sighed, “We only have two vehicles available,” he replied, “six passengers each plus equipment and supplies, and trailers for the generators and fuel,” he continued, “everybody on the project will be serving duties critical to the success of the mission and frankly, your resume is lacking in skills, save your ability to lug a rifle around,” reasoned Bond, “we have two armed guards, one has a background with internal combustion engines, so he will be maintaining the vehicles and generators, what secondary duties are you available for?”  
Henke scowled, and his expression darkened, “I could run a command center to coordinate all of the operations efficiently.”  
Bond shook his head, “Seriously? That happens to be my job,” he tapped at the display of his portable data device, “your resume lacks any reference to positions of leadership or management,” he leaned forward to emphasize his answer, “sitting all day, answering phones at the security desk in a New Jersey shopping mall doesn’t earn you any points as the leader of this, or any other project.”  
The security chief sat down, muttering, and glared at some of the people around him when he heard stifled snickering.  
Acolyte Bond checked his notes one last time, “If there is nothing else, we shall be loading equipment this afternoon, please be ready to depart Innsmouth by thirteen hundred,” he stood up and raised a hand, “you have a list of personal items to bring, make certain that your gear is ready and loaded ASAP, because we don’t want any delay in departure -we have no idea how the traveling conditions may impede our travel,” he raised both arms, “may the blessings of Blake be upon you!”

“I want to know how that information was obtained by that…mercenary,” hissed Acolyte Greenstein, he squirmed in the folding chair in front of the adept’s desk, “why was he even allowed to make such a presentation?”  
Adept Thalassa spread his hands in mock innocence, “Frankly, I have no idea what you mean,” he shrugged, “perhaps one of his people, the ones who discovered the cave of ferals, found the data,” he added, “and nobody screens the briefing materials, except for the time alloted.”  
“This is your responsibility!” shouted the acolyte, “don’t you realize what you’ve done?”  
The adept sighed, “Why don’t you fill me in?”  
“Don’t you recall the protocol required in every newly explored planet that anomalies must be reported immediately,” began the acolyte, “and the site restricted until an official team arrives to investigate?”  
Thalassa nodded, “I’m aware of the protocol, Acolyte Greenstein,” he leaned forward, “and since this world has already been explored and colonized, the protocol does not apply.”  
Greenstein leapt to his feet, “You know very well that this world was settled by the Terran Hegemony,” he was livid, “our recovery of this system is no different than discovery, and the proper protocols must be applied!” he fumed and tapped the Adept’s desk with his index finger, “we must never allow any knowledge of alien intelligence or technology to be made known to the public!”  
“You might want to keep your voice down,” the adept warned the acolyte, “the walls of this tent happen to be very thin, and I’m certain you have already managed to compromise security.”  
That seemed to infuriate Greenstein even more, his face turned red and he spluttered, his voice lowered, “Your superiors shall hear of this -your cavalier attitude is borderline heresy.”  
“Seriously?” Thalassa crossed his arms, “Jerome Blake adhered to the policy of the Hegemony government to find and destroy possible traces of alien technology on Terra as well as throughout the Inner Sphere, a policy carried out by the SLDF, often hidden by military operations,” he chuckled and shook his head, “why does ComStar insist on believing that the idea was theirs?” he then added, “some of us believe that Blake had misgivings over the policy, and that our current standards were enacted after his passing.”  
“Blasphemy!” hissed the acolyte, “our sainted Blake was the originator of cleansing the Inner Sphere of the taint of alien presence,” he ranted, his voice still subdued, “we can never allow the Children of Holy Terra to suffer the indignity of being held inferior to extinct races of nonhumans,” he pointed an accusing finger at Thalassa, “I shall have a word with the other acolytes, do not be surprised if the consensus deems it necessary to remove you from command,” Greenstein turned and stormed out of the adept’s tent.  
The adept shook his head, “Ignorant fool, blinded by fanaticism,” he smiled to himself, “what makes you think they are extinct?”

Late Afternoon

Acolyte Bond squinted his eyes as he scanned the snow-covered plains and rolling hills in the distance. Following the river, while making it easier to navigate, had several unforeseen problems, such as swamplands that proved to be impassible, and stretches of slushy mud that threatened to swallow their vehicles and more than once, required the application of tow cables for extraction. He has also forgotten, due to the difference in temperature, the dense fog caused by the combination of the cold, humid air and the warmer river, which slowed their travel to a cautious crawl. The satellite navigation system could guide them to their destination but did not alert them of the many uncharted impediments to their progress, which turned their estimated journey from the expected hour of travel to half a day’s arduous struggle.  
Unlike the stressed drivers, the passengers started out with discussing their mission and speculating on what they may find and what they hoped to uncover. Their discussion lasted through the first couple of hours and devolved into idle banter before the they sat in bored silence and eventually took turns napping, the only excitement being the times one of the vehicles bogged down and required pushing or towing. Their meal in transit was a selection of premade sandwiches and bars composed of compressed nuts and fruit.  
Henke sat among the passengers, sullen and withdrawn, plotting his moves to keep the crew under observation while trying to find a way to gain a position of importance among them. He reviewed his training in his mind, he weighed covert infiltration with his desire to hold power and control over the others. He wondered why ComStar allowed nonbelievers to participate I the settlement, especially that mercenary, whose records revealed he was a potential problem, an immoral, aggressive and violent man at the controls of one of the most powerful machines known to humanity. Not only is that savage allowed free run of the settlement, he was also placed in charge of security…What was Adept Thalassa thinking?  
Dumare adjusted the settings on his sensors, and looked for anomalies usually present in urban settings, such as underground water and electricity conduits. The structure he was searching for may have relied on above-ground power lines, which would not have survived the decades exposed to the elements, but he preferred caution, especially if the building he scarcely remembered from childhood was still in good enough shape to restore.  
He spotted the building from over two kilometers. It stood over 40 meters tall, with a gabled roof, of an architectural design from ancient Terra, he was told that the house was similar that those where his father’s family had lived, on the East Coast of North America. Dumare wondered what shape that old structure could be in, after the long decades of abandonment. It was probably ransacked by pirates or looters from the town, after order had broken down, but from the distance, the frame, at least, appeared intact.  
From a kilometer away, the sensor readings made him suspicious. If the building was abandoned, the structure’s temperature would be no different than the ambient air. There were traces of heat emanations that were sure indications of some manner of life, animals at the least. He feared that feral humans may have chosen to hole up in the ruins of his home. The idea angered Dumare, and he cursed under his breath and reached down to the side of his command seat to give his submachinegun a reassuring pat. If there were trespassers, he was ready to clear them.  
At half a kilometer distance, Dumare guided his battlemech between the clusters of trees and along the snow-layered driveway. His approach was slow and cautious, he monitored his scanning data which searched for magnetic anomalies or thermal differences on his path, as it would be embarrassing to collapse a cesspool on the way to the property he claimed as his. A hundred meters from the front door, the Black Knight halted, and the mercenary waited for thirty minutes, just observing. Some of the windows showed thermal variances that could only be cause by some form of heating within the building. Much to his surprise, the three-story mansion was in remarkably good condition. None of the windows were broken and the front door was closed. The paint was a very light off-white hue, so he couldn’t determine if the color was normal or had faded due to exposure to harsh weather and sun. He thought for a minute, opened a standard request form on his display and began to fill in the blanks.   
“Innsmouth Control, this is Black Knight.”  
“Go ahead, Black Knight.”  
“I’m transmitting data for Adept Thalassa’s approval, please make certain he received that data in a timely manner,” responded Dumare, “Black Knight, out.”  
He slapped the quick release on his safety harness and slung his firearm before he opened the hatch.

“Thalassa is a heretic!” declared Greenstein, “his poor decisions shall strip us all from Blake’s favor, and doom our settlement.”  
The handful of acolytes in the mess tent glanced at each other nervously, most of them had been recruited by ComStar while attending college, as the holy order offered to cover their expenses and guaranteed jobs upon graduation.   
“What are you telling us?” asked Acolyte Przpezewsky, “If you have a problem with the Adept’s decisions, why not discuss it with him?”  
Greenstein sneered, “Do you think I haven’t voiced my opposition?” his fist rapped the table, “the heretic is adamant with his decisions, drunk with power and inflexible.”  
“I don’t know…” reasoned the younger acolyte, “he approved the project to examine the megalith, I really wanted to volunteer but my skills at power systems are needed here.”  
“You don’t seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation,” replied Greenstein, “valuable assets have been denied out of whim,” he counted each point with a finger, “he removed two security personnel, which endangers our safety, he allowed valuable specialists to waste time digging instead of contributing to the settlement, and last, he violated ComStar protocols by investigating an archaeological site without waiting for Terra to send a team of qualified professionals.”  
“While I kind of see your point,” Przpezewsky nodded, “I don’t see any harm with investigating the megalith to determine whether it’s real, or just another SLDF hoax,” he shook his head, “I mean, I’ve read about how SLDF engineers would plant these things around just to get people worked up over nothing.”  
Greenstein shook his head, “All of our assets and energy have to be dedicated to the survival and success of our mission, not some frivolous pursuit,” he ranted, “they could be with the people who are harvesting grain or the assembling the prefabricated structures we’ll need for winter.”  
“I’m not arguing with you,” said the acolyte, “I just want to hear you out, although, what is your proposed solution?” he shrugged, “I mean, I’m not fully knowledgeable in the process of replacing the guy ComStar placed in charge, and it’ll be months before the jumpship returns with supplies,” he drew out an imaginary map on the table, “then we send a message to Terra, and then their reply comes back…that could take almost a year, right?”  
“That’s the casual, administrative route,” Greenstein replied, “we can remove Thalassa from position if we have enough of the acolytes agree upon his removal.”  
“So, we can just vote him out of office?”  
Greenstein smiled, “Yes, we just have to convince enough of the acolytes to see that replacing him would be for the best.”

“Do you see him?”  
Thomas Heinrich peered through the scope of his rifle, “Not yet.”  
Ricardo Gomez scanned the distant tree line through his binoculars, “He was there a minute ago.”  
The two security members crouched in the guard tower that faced the forest to the north of town, where the feral men were often spotted, lurking among the pines.  
Although a scoped sniper rifle rested in the rack beside the men, Heinrich cradled another weapon in his arms, very similar to the sniper rifle but loaded with drugged darts, each dart with a sedative capable of dropping a horse.  
“I see movement,” whispered Gomez, “yeah, he’s crawling near the edge of large tree with the green reflector.” The security team marked the trunk of several trees with colored reflective plaques, so they could quickly locate the feral men who lurked around the perimeter of the town beyond the wire fence. The fence was topped with razor wire and carried a mild electric current, which proved effective, as the first night it was powered up there was an unmistakable howl from the section nearest the tree line.  
“We’ll be switching to IR in the next hour,” murmured Heinrich, “I’m guessing they will test the fence again,” he eyed the sniper rifle, “if the adept didn’t want them taken alive, we could have just hunted them down, so they wouldn’t be a threat to anyone venturing outside the town.”

Adept Thalassa logged the form into the colony’s database and smiled to himself, “Everything is progressing as expected.”  
“Adept, are you busy?” a man’s voice sounded from outside the tent’s door.  
“Come in, come in,” Thalassa replied. He stood up and motioned with a hand, “please, have a seat, would you like some tea?”  
Acoltye Przpezewsky nodded, “Thank you adept,” he sat down, “yes, I’ll have some tea, please.”  
Thalassa stepped to his right and picked up a mug and took a ready carafe from the warmer and filled the mug with steaming hot water, “Green or Orange Pekoe?”  
“Green please.”  
The adept picked a teabag from a container, placed it in the mug and handed the acolyte the mug and a spoon, “Most people don’t take sugar with green tea but if you like some, I have it.”  
Przpezewsky shook his head, “This is fine, thank you,” he placed the mug on the desk and let it steep.  
“So, acolyte,” said Thalassa, as he lowered himself into his chair, “what may I do for you?”  
The visitor leaned forward and whispered, “I have something serious to report to you,” he paused for a breath, “one of the acolytes is plotting to have you removed from your position by holding a vote.”  
The adept frowned, “That would be Greenstein.”  
“You know about it?”  
Thalassa chuckled, “Greenstein pretty much told me his plan,” he shook his head, “and he believes that he could do a better job.”  
“He calls your faith into question.”  
The older man shrugged, “Most of the real technicians in ComStar are actually employees and members for the money and job security, ” he leaned forward in emphasis, “but nobody dares admit it,” he leaned back in his chair, “as far as anybody is concerned, none of that is my business, as long as they do their job.”  
“Aren’t you afraid of losing your job?” the acolyte seemed concerned.  
“The people should be worried more about Acolyte Greenstein,” warned Thalassa, “he’s a control freak with extreme interpretations of the garbage attributed to Jerome Blake,” he said, “he’d have pre-arranged marriages and scheduled, compulsory prayer.”  
“A lot of people wont like that,” the acolyte said, “I’m happy with you in charge.”  
Thalassa smiled and patted the other man’s shoulder, “Thank you for your vote of confidence,” he paused in thought, “keep me advised on what’s going on behind my back.”

Dumare stood in front of the mansion and slowly looked over the windows. The glass panes were intact, and through those panes he could even see white drapes hanging. He had fully believed that there would at least be evidence of forced entry after so many decades, instead, from the front, the structure appeared pristine.  
With great caution, he slowly turned the brass doorknob and found the door unlocked. The door easily swung open and leading with the muzzle of his weapon, he slipped through the portal.  
There was an entryway, with brass coat hooks and a cast iron standing hat rack. The floors were polished wood with carpeting. He stealthily crept into a large room with a high ceiling, with a gilt chandelier with glittering crystals and electric candles. The chandelier was lit, as were the wall lamps. It was then he noted that the inside of the mansion was warm, which his battlemech’s sensors had detected. A wide set of stairs led to the upper floors and he turned to look at the glossy black grand piano near its base. He suddenly heard movement above him, the creak of a wooden floor, as if being stepped upon. He brought his SMG up and could see a dark figure standing at the top of the stairs.

“Welcome home, son.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumare stakes his claim, finds a family legacy. Acolyte Greenstein challenges Adept Thalassa's decisions. A team travels to examine the mysterious megalith, and what the heck are "Orcettes?"

Al-Tinin IV  
Al-Tinin System  
Draconis Combine (Uncharted)

Dumare stood at the foot of the stairs and looked up at the man who had emerged from the shadows, “Son?” he exclaimed, he studied the other man’s features and could see the faint resemblance in the wrinkled face, the high brow and prominent nose, intense eyes that seemed larger than normal, the presence of a strong, prominent jawline partially obscured by gray whiskers. Yes, there was a familial connection, to be sure, and this was the man who stood next to his mother in a collection of old image files. The man was tall, much like the younger mercenary, perhaps a couple of centimeters taller, and his shoulders somewhat broader. He wore a loose fitting set of field green coveralls, very similar to SLDF issue but without patches, insignia or rank designation.  
The man slowly descended the stairs, his face impassive as Dumare could scarcely recall in his dim memories. “Thank you for returning my battlemech, my dear Lucienne, your mother, was not interested in the legacy of our family.”  
“Mother told me that you were dead,” replied the mercenary, “why would she lie to me about you?”  
The older man shook his head, “You, my son, have an ancient inheritance, which your mother had difficulty in accepting.” He stepped closer and placed a large hand on Dumare’s shoulder, “You were called here in your dreams, were you not?”  
“My dreams?” asked Dumare, “how could you know about them?”  
“Your ability to dream is part of your inheritance, my son,” the elder Dumare calmly answered, “through our dreams, we see the ancient past and distant future, all that is possible and that which shall be,” he continued, “our dreams show us the truth beyond illusions and allow us to call to each other beyond the measureless gulfs between the stars, and the immense vastness of time itself.”  
The younger Dumare frowned, “Uh, I still don’t fully comprehend what you are trying to tell me,” he relaxed his stance and took his hand from the grip of his submachine gun, “are you saying that some kind of psychic ability runs in our family?”  
The older man laughed, “Oh, no, my son! We are not carnival hucksters and tarot readers, not tricksters and cheap entertainers,” he shook his head, “we shall discuss the matter at length another time, this is your home of old and this is your home now, the building behind the house, that looks like an old barn is a fully appointed battlemech hangar with the bays for a lance, these are all yours, now.”

Early Evening

Security Chief Henke shivered as he assisted with putting up one of the four tents under the brilliant lights projected by the land rover. His teeth chattered as the biting cold cut through his insulated clothing. He didn’t expect the temperature to drop so radically after dark, his mittens barely kept his fingers comfortably cold, let alone warm. Even worse, the wind had picked up and snow was falling. He was thankful that Acolyte Bond was a bit of a softy, who made sure everybody was relieved from working outside every few minutes to warm themselves in the first tent, where a heater was installed and hot coffee brewing.  
About fifty meters away, through the blur of falling snow, he could barely make out the shapes of the megalith’s standing stones, gray in the darkness.  
“Ready for a break?”  
Henke nodded, “You bet,” he told his relief, “thanks!” He made a beeline for the break tent and slipped through the entantrance.  
The light was dim but Henke could see three other people seated around the stove, sipping from mugs.  
“Coffee?” one of the acolytes held the pot up, near the mug with his name written on it.  
He pulled his mittens off, “Please, I’ll take it black,” he stripped off his jacket and immediately felt the warm air filling his lungs and caressing his limbs. “I can’t believe it’s gotten so cold.”  
“We are further north and away from the river,” muttered one of them, “the flat terrain has no forestation to abate the winds, this area is outside of our range for accurate meteorological forecasts.”  
Henke sighed and nodded, he pretended to understand, and sipped his coffee.

“I tell you, you have to watch the full cut scene to catch the hint of the next quest,” said Acolyte Jost, his voice with pedantic insistence. The two acolytes sat in the dining tent, sipping coffee.  
Acolyte Przpezewski shook his head, “The hints are clear enough for me, just playing through the quest,” he responded, “and if I need further clarification, I can refer to the Wiki.”  
“That means you missed the hint,” crowed Jost, “otherwise, you wouldn’t even need the Wiki.”  
“I didn’t need the Wiki to complete the tavern keeper’s side quest.”  
“You didn’t…” Jost covered his face with his hands, “those side quests are distractions,” he said, “the main quest is time-sensitive and the final award for completion is based on how fast you finish.”  
“What?” Przpezewski jumped up from his chair, “I’ve been jumping on all of those side quests!”  
A female acolyte approached the two, “Hey, Stanislaus, what are you guys talking about?”  
Przpezewski stood up, “Hey, Katarina, me and Michael were just talking about our favorite trivid game.”  
“You mean, the one with the ugly, green women?” She had an obvious look of distaste on her face.  
Stanislaus stood up, “Hey!” he seemed wounded, “They aren’t ugly...and they aren’t women, either, they are beautiful, shapely Orcettes.”  
Katarina put a palm to her forehead, “Seriously, I can’t believe that you are really my brother.”  
Michael interceded, “It’s just a harmless game, Kat, it gives us something to do when we aren’t working.”  
“Other than eating and sleeping, that seems to be the only thing you guys do, when you aren’t working,” Katarina shot back, “and a game where the players rack up points for having sex with muscular green females with fangs is hardly my idea of harmless.”  
“That really isn’t fair,” reasoned her brother, “I mean, it’s not like we’re having sex with real women.”  
Katarina could not resist, “No, I have serious doubts about that ever happening.” She smirked and turned to see Acolyte Vathos sitting at a table, her attention on her datapad display. “Hey, Dimitra.”  
The doctor looked up at her friend and waved, “Hi, Kat, what’s going on?” she smiled as the acolyte sat across from her.  
“The megalith away team complained about the lack of weather data,” Kat told her, “we only have what little information from the Hugin’s sensors on the ground.”  
“Why is that your problem, you’re a data systems specialist, right?”  
“According to our avionics technician, Acolyte Simkins, there are still several satellites in orbit but they are offline, due to corrupt programs,” replied Kat, “my guess the problem is more than just that, but Donald wants me to try giving the satnet a remote systems upgrade.”  
Dimitra inclined her head, “So, do you think you can do it?”  
Kat shrugged, “I’m going to try my best,” she sipped her tea, “I’ve done similar upgrades on remote arrays but they were hardwired, not transmitted, although there shouldn’t be much difference,” she saw her brother Stanislaw heading out the door with Michael, and returned his wave, “I’m worried that the problem may be due to hardware, not merely obsolete programming.”  
“I’m sure you can do it,” Dimitra reassured her.  
“Thanks,” said Kat, “at least I’m doing something worthwhile. Did you know Greenstein approached me to design a program to track everybody’s daily activities?”  
“What for? It’s not like we are hourly laborers...or slaves, to be monitored.”  
“He told me that he wanted to ‘optimize how we expend our energy’ by studying time allocation and making recommendations for improvements,” Kat told her.  
“Vincent’s natural cynicism might be rubbing off on me,” commented Dimitra, “but it sounds like the kind of thing a control freak would try to pull by wrapping it in good intentions.”  
“Well, you are so lucky to have a man,” whispered Kat, “I should have found one before coming here.”  
“There are plenty of available men here, aren’t there?” asked Dimitra, “I thought that was the idea behind the selection of equal ratios of men and women.”  
“Katarina covered her mouth when she laughed, “Yes, there are plenty of males, but only a few men worth considering,” she said, in a half-joking tone, “I’m sure your husband is drawing a lot of attention, so I’d keep an eye on him.”  
Dimitra smiled, “Oh, I know!” she responded, “His kind always attracts women -He owns a battlemech, which is material wealth, he has power and responsibility and he has an abundance of good looks, as well.”  
Kat leaned over and whispered, “If you want to see something pitiful, try having a conversation with my brother.”  
Dimitra laughed out loud, “You are so mean!”

“How can you possibly think that you could get away with approving a land claim, sight unseen?” Greenstein was livid. He stormed into Adept Thalassa’s tent after hearing about how Dumare’s application was processed.  
“How is any of that your business, Acolyte?” answered the Adept.  
His face turned a shade of red, “Your abuse of power is the business of every faithful member of ComStar,” thundered Greenstein, not caring how thin the tent walls were.  
“You do realize that the claim was an essential part of our mission’s charter,” reasoned Thalassa calmly, “and part of the contractual conditions as outlined for our non-ComStar settlers.”  
“What if the claimed property has controlled technologies?” Greenstein pointed out, “they might find something they aren’t authorized to possess.”  
“Yes, that is also contained in the contract,” the Adept informed him, “although the property’s claimant should inform me of the presence of such technologies, the people who wrote the contract neglected to provide examples of what those controlled technologies might be.”  
The Acolyte was unwilling to budge on the issue, “It is your responsibility to make certain every claim is inspected prior to approval of any claim!”  
“I trust Dumare’s assessment as a competent inspector,” was the Adept’s reply, “if you have nothing else, the matter has been settled, as per regulations and lawful agreements, good day,” Thalassa’s tone underscored the issue being closed.  
“This isn’t the end of this issue!” exclaimed Greenstein, “if I have to take it up to the Primus, himself.”  
“Good day.”

Nu’ukai hefted a metal toolbox into the back of the all terrain vehicle that belonged to his lance’s maintenance crew.  
“Kal,” called one of the crewmen from the Hugin, the dropship contracted by Comstar, “I heard all of you were packing up.”  
The Polynesian nodded, “The boss called in, said we have a new base,” he took inventory of the remaining space in the back of the vehicle, “when he says ‘Move’, we gotta move.”  
“Man, I’m going to miss your food!” he shook the mechwarrior's hand.  
“No big thing,” Kalani assured him, “we still guard the town, and come back to party.”  
“Well, give me a call when you do,” the crewman turned to leave, “take care!”  
“Aloha!”  
A slim woman with honey-brown skin and dark, wavy hair walked up to the vehicle, she shouldered a Federated Suns military-issue duffle bag and let it fall into the vehicle’s cargo compartment with a dull thud. “That’s the last from our room,” she announced, “Debra and Alex said they will be along, soon.”  
Nu’ukai hugged her, “No rush,” he said, “we not going to leave until morning, anyway.”  
“Ravi and Coleen told me they’ll load their gear right after their shift is done,” Paulette informed him.  
“Good,” Kalani grunted, “we ahead of schedule,” despite all the confusion of the sudden relocation, he took all of it in stride, he fully trusted his commander’s decisions.  
Paulette was Nu’ukai’s woman, as well as the technician who cared for his Crab. Like most Polynesians, they were friendly, outgoing, loyal, hardworking and always ready to celebrate something with friends, mostly in the form of large amounts of food.  
It was at one of these celebrations that Dumare met Nu’ukai, Dumare tried to ask Paulette for a date and Nu’ukai stepped in. Although Dumare rarely ever passed up a good brawl, he saw no reason to ruin a good party and lose a tooth or so in the process. The two men became good friends and as soon as Nu’ukai’s contract with his previous employer was up, Dumare offered him a position in his unit.  
Nu’ukai liked Dumare -he admired his honesty as well as his utter fearlessness in battle; Unlike his previous commanders, Dumare never corrected his heavily accented Standard or occasional use of Hawaiian words, when he thought Standard lacked sufficient impact.

Late Evening

The Megalith Away Team, as they called themselves, sat down to a meal of hot clam chowder and sourdough toast. Erecting their four tents in the blowing snow was challenging as well as exhausting, so the team members looked forward to a good rest and hoped for calmer weather come morning. The heaters were all working properly and the tents had more than adequate insulation for everybody to sleep at night and work comfortably during the day. The tents were designed for eight adults with room for gear, so even with the cots and folding desks, assigning three people per tent gave the members plenty of space to work and sleep. Security Chief Henke ate his meal in silence, Acolyte Bond had selected five of the team to dine in his tent and discuss their operations for the next two weeks. Because he wasn’t actually part of the research effort, Bond wouldn’t allow him to sit in on the meeting, no matter how he tried to convince the stubborn technician. He would have to determine other ways to keep an eye on every facet of the project.

“You see,” explained Acolyte Michael Jost, “once the expansion equipment I ordered arrives, I’ll have my private server up and running, and everybody who wants can join in our full, virtual world.”  
“That is so awesome!” Stanislaus Przpezewski exclaimed, impressed, “especially since I can transfer my current character from the game on my trivid console.”  
“The only restriction being that you start with only the basic equipment,” Jost informed him, “and the early missions will be adjusted for level.”  
“Aw, I wish my character could start with his full suit of Blessed Orcknight Plate and Blade of the Immortal Orcmeister,” Stanislaus grumbled, “That would be tres cool!”  
“Stan, be thankful I’m letting you start with an elite level character instead of a fresh, new one, like all the other new players,” Mike told him, “I mean, it’s bad enough you already know how to play, which gives you a big head start as it is.”  
“So, how many players are we looking at?”  
Jost scratched at his unkempt beard, “At least twenty sounded interested,” he then leaned close and whispered, “and at least three women.”  
Stan’s jaw dropped.

“You’re leaving?” Acolyte Katarina had burst into the tent serving as Dimitra’s office as soon as she heard the news. “You can’t go!”  
“Kat,” she informed her, “I’ll still be working here every day, you know that, right?”  
“Really? One of the Hugin’s crew mentioned that the mercenaries and their techs were packing their ATV when I went for coffee in the dining tent,” Kat told her, “they said your husband claimed property over fifty kilometers away.”  
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” said Dimitra, “Vince didn’t give me any details other than I’d like it,” she added, “he then said that any of my friends are invited to visit after we get settled.”  
“You are so lucky!” Kat exclaimed, “you get to live in a real house when some of us will be living in tents a year or so from now.”  
“According to Vince, the area he picked was likely where there were farms and ranches,” Dimitra informed her, “I’ll ask him to look for something you’d like.”  
“Would you? That’s so nice!” she gave her friend a hug.

“So, all of this is powered by hydroelectric generators in underground rivers?”  
“Yes,” replies Charles Dumare, “a fusion plant would have been easy to detect with the proper sensors,” he continued, “we had considered geothermal but that was rejected due to its unstable nature.” He and his son walked along a wide concrete corridor and reached an intersection, “that way leads to the hydroponic gardens, and that way to power monitoring station.” The corridor measure about four meters across, with a ceiling three meters high, and though lit, the corridor seemed to stretch for over a hundred meters ahead.  
“So, who did all this, was it the Star League?” asked Vincent Dumare.  
The older man chuckled, “Oh, no,” he replied, “the Terran Hegemony bypassed this planet as unusable, or at least, that’s what our people reported before settling here.”  
“Wait, so how did ComStar find this place?”  
“Not long before Amaris toppled the Hegemony,” Charles answered, “a jumpship fleeing pirates jumped into the system and sent dropships to top off their water,” he continued, “Al-Tinin IV was listed as a borderline, subsistence world and claimed by Terra, but the government declined to invest in development, but sold the resource rights to a collection of corporations, who showed up and shoved their Terran Hegemony contracts in the faces of the settlers. Fortunately, the locations of most of the resources were a distance from the town of Innsmouth, so there was little interaction, save for occasional visits by the workers.”  
“If this place was so borderline, why would ComStar bother with it?” asked the younger man.  
“Let me tell you,” said his father, “The Terran Hegemony, the Star League, and ComStar are like many organizations throughout human history,” he said, “they are made up of smaller factions, each with their own agendas.”  
“Okay, I can agree with you, for the most part,” Vince admitted, “but what does that have to do with Al-Tinin?”  
“I didn’t find this planet by accident, and unlike what information you might have dug up,” he added, “the people who sent me gave me a clear briefing of what I would find here,” he pointed at Vincent, “you were chosen to be sent here, as well.”  
“I don’t fully understand,” Vince replied, “why wasn’t given a full briefing as you were?”  
“Your mother.”  
“What?” he exploded, “what has my mother have to do with anything?”  
“How did you find this mansion?” asked Charles.  
It dawned upon the younger man, “The data was stored in the Black Knight’s navigation system.”  
“Your mother was unaware of it,” answered Charles, “and couldn’t access the data even if she desired so.”  
The younger mercenary stopped walking, “Why?” he asked, “What could have driven her to take me from this place, the world I was born, and steal your battlemech in order to escape?”  
Charles Dumare sighed and shook his head, “She could not accept our relatives and legacy,” his voice reflected a tinge of sadness, “my dear Lucienne refused to believe that you were destined for greater things, and could not believe what I told her, until she finally met my mother.”  
“My grandmother was here, too?” he asked in surprise, “I was told she died on Terra, in a retirement home in Boston.”  
“That was your mother’s story,” the old man responded, “she likely wanted you to believe that all ties with my side of your family were neatly severed,” he placed a long-fingered hand on his son’s shoulder, “you shall meet her and many others of our family, soon.”  
“Grandmother, alive?” the younger Dumare felt as if he was in a strange dream, his knees suddenly weak, “and other relatives?” he shook his head as if to clear it, “Grandmother would be in her nineties by now.”  
“Oh, she is far older than that,” said his father, “over twice as old, actually.”  
“That isn’t possible,” Vincent told him, “while recent technology has extended human life considerably, with people normally living to be a hundred years or more, it is rare for anybody to live beyond one hundred and thirty, without significant, expensive machinery.”  
“Your mother thought the same,” Charles replied calmly, “but her perspective was the same as yours, based upon limited knowledge and experience.”  
Vincent frowned in thought, “So what am I missing here?” he inquired, “Does this planet have some sort of property that extends life? Did the settlers discover some miraculous drug?”  
“My son,” the older Dumare told him, “it makes me proud that you have such a nimble, inquisitive mind,” he looked his son in the eye, “everybody brought here shall be exposed to the truth, and some may not like it,” he warned, “your mother rejected what she learned and tried to protect you from it, but you deserve the truth.”  
“Yes, I want the truth!”  
The older man smiled, “And you shall have the truth, my son,” he motioned Vince to follow, as he turned on his way down the dimly lit corridor, “if you received the standard, Inner Sphere education, you were probably taught that the universe as we know it began with a huge explosion of energy and materials that hurled all known matter into the surrounding, empty void, and some of that matter collected to form what we know as our galaxies, stars, and planets.”  
“Yes, that is the commonly accepted theory of the creation of all things,” responded Vincent, “you’re not going to tell me that some omniscient, divine being conjured the universe out of nothing, are you?”  
“Goodness, no,” the older Dumare halted for a moment to face Vincent, “truth is a reflection of empirical reality, not the use of mythology to explain mysteries.”  
“Okay,” replied Vincent, “if you have an alternate hypothesis, I certainly want to hear it, especially if you have empirical evidence.”  
“Very well,” said Charles, “let’s head to the auxiliary battlemech hangar.”  
Vincent walk beside the older man, and tried to estimate the size of the facility under the property he claimed, he knew that he was at least thirty meters below the surface, and from the lift to his current position, he had walked at least a hundred meters, which means that the hangar would be another hundred meters away, likely under the barn, he spotted when he first approached the mansion. He noted the number of doors that lined the main hall, and wondered what existed behind them, because the doors lacked marking.  
At the end of the hall, a large set of doors barred their way. Charles opened a metal panel on the wall next to the doors, reached into pocket and drew out a small data crystal and pressed it against a sensor pad. There was a metallic click and whine of servos as the doors slid into the walls, revealing the darkness beyond.  
“I have to activate the lights,” said Charles, as he depressed a switch.  
Vincent walked into the darkened area and squinted as the lights flickered to full illumination to reveal a vast chamber, possibly measuring a hundred meters by a hundred and fifty meters, with four battlemech bays, complete with lifts. hoists and catwalks, capable of factory-level operations. At the far end of the cavernous facility, a massive lift stood, surrounded by a girder-framed cage.  
“I’ve died and gone to heaven.”


End file.
